


Breakin' Free

by rosesisupposes



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bisexual Virgil, Black Logan, Black Patton, Closeted Roman, Coming Out, DCOM Nostalgia, Everyone Loves Patton, High School Musical - Freeform, Hispanic Virgil, Indian Remy, Interrupted Kiss, Irish Roman, Logan the Nerd, M/M, Miscommunication, Morality | Patton Sanders is a Good Friend, New Year's Kiss Fail, Patton Makes Excellent Creme Brulee, Patton is a Tall Boy, Patton the Jock, Roman Still Thinks He's Straight, Roman the Jock, Sarcastic Remy, Virgil the Nerd, did you know even Disney Movies have Some Angst, i have so many better things to be doing, miscommunication angst, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-07-18 03:18:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16109666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesisupposes/pseuds/rosesisupposes
Summary: You've read the high school AUs, now get ready for theHigh School MusicalAU that absolutely no one asked for





	1. Start of Something New

#### SCENE: Hotel room, a ski resort in Colorado

“Virgil, it’s New Year’s Eve, enough reading!”

Virgil Montez grumbled. “But Mom, I’m almost done. Tonight’s just a change in the calendar - it’ll happen even if I’m still reading.”

“Virge, remember the teen party tonight? Remember how you were going to be social? I’ve laid out your nice clothes, come on and get ready,” Liza Montez smiled at him as she plucked the book from his hands. She knew her son tended towards introversion, but she knew too much solitude got him a little stuck in his own head. A resort party full of vacationing families meant no cliques to navigate, no established friendships to be excluded from. It would be good for him.

“Can I have my book back?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve already put a bookmark in it. C’mon. Party clothes time.”

With a sigh, Virgil stood up from the comfortable couch and grabbed the clothes his mom had packed for just this purpose. Black dress pants, white collared shirt, and a well-fitted sweater that was far too light a blue for his usual taste. But it was… festive, he supposed. Maybe dressing up would make it a little easier to act like someone who would choose to go to a party of their own volition. A costume that he could hide his nervousness behind.

Not that the stakes were all that high. They were only here in Colorado for winter break, just like all the other teens who’d be there tonight. After this party, he’d never see any of them ever again.

 

#### SCENE: Gymnasium at the same ski resort

Sneakers squeaked against waxed hardwood as two men feinted and spun. Pants of exertion mixed with commentary and teasing, punctuated with the staccato beat of the basketball they sparred over dribbling and smacking the backboard and hoop.

“Keep working left, Ro. Got a guard in the championship game we're expectin'. You'll torch 'em!” the older man instructed.

“By going left?” Sweat had the younger man’s normally soft hair clinging to his forehead, almost brown with dampness rather than its usual ginger.

“Yeah. He looks middle, you take it downtown.”

“OK, like this?” Sneakers squeaked and bodies darted around each other. A swoop of air, and the basketball sailed into the hoop with a satisfying swish of net.

“Boys,” a voice interrupted them from the doorway. Lucille Bolton leaned against the wall, elegantly clad in shimmery green so dark it was almost black. Her hair, as red as her son’s, blazed in contrast as she regarded her husband and son with a resigned glare. “Did we really fly all this way to play more basketball?”

Coach Bolton (well, Jack, but who ever called him that) and Roman stared back at her as they answered in unison, “Well, yeah.”

Lucy sighed. “It’s the last night of vacation. The party?”

Her husband scratched the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. Party. New Year’s. Right.”

“Roman, they have a kids party downstairs in the Freestyle club.”

“Kids party?”

“Young adult party,” she said, exaggerating the words as she rolled her eyes at her sixteen-year-old. “Now both of you, go shower, please.”

Roman looked at her, big eyes pleading. “One more?”

His mother sighed, knowing she’d chosen this sports-saturated life when she fell in love with her husband. “Make it quick, boys.”

Roman grinned at his mom. He knew she loved them and their antics, no matter how much she rolled her eyes at them. He grabbed the ball and swirled into action, dodging and weaving around his father to sink another perfect basket.

“Woo! There we go. That's the way to end it,” he crowed. “Gettin’ slow, old man!”

His dad ruffled his hair, pulling him into headlock before dragging him off the the showers.

 

#### SCENE: Freestyle Club, ~~Kids~~ Young Adults' Party

Roman maneuvered easily through the crowd of young people, smiling and waving and occasionally dodging particularly obnoxious or large party hats. There was this one guy in a HUGE cowboy hat that he didn’t understand - what did cowboys have to do with New Year’s? Or Colorado in the middle of winter?

He got himself some punch and a plate of brownies, cookies, and other sweet treats. Technically, he was on a perpetual conditioning diet thanks to basketball, but his sweet tooth was far too strong to resist, and Coach (Dad) wasn’t here to tell him no. Taking care to not get any crumbs on his new burgundy blazer or dark-wash jeans, he chatted casually about the weather and the slopes with the other people his age near him. An eclectic mix of music was blaring through the speakers as a very enthusiastic DJ facilitated a lively evening of karaoke, bouncing from 90’s hits to showtunes to obscure duets of his own choosing. Roman glanced at the clock. Two more hours to midnight.

~~~~~~~~~

Virgil wasn’t as uncomfortable as he’d feared, and contrary to his mom’s teasing prediction, he was not in a corner reading instead of interacting with the other partygoers. His own prediction, that the music would not be his taste, was kind of guaranteed to come true. On his own, he usually chose from the holy trinity of emo bands, maybe some branching out into more recent alternative rock. Nothing that a corny resort-sponsored party would play. Although at least there were some classic musicals thrown into the playlist. Virgil would never admit it out loud, but a childhood of listening to his mom sing along to her Broadway vinyls while pulling a toddler-sized Virgil to dance on her feet had left him with a soft spot for theater songs, as well as word-perfect recall of the lyrics to every one of them.

Something horribly bubble-pop from the 90’s was blaring at the moment. He rolled his eyes and caught sight of a girl about his age doing the same exact thing. They both grinned and struck up a conversation bemoaning the choices of the older generations.

He was so caught up in the non-threatening chatter that he barely noticed when the song ended and the DJ thanked the singers, who were red and laughing, not particularly caring about the quality of their singing or the song. They’d had fun, and the DJ was looking for a new pair.

“Who's gonna rock the house next, huh? Here we go!”

Spotlights danced around the room. One landed squarely on Virgil. Now he was paying attention. His new friend laughed. “Yeah, man, go for it!” as the DJ came to take his hand up to the stage. He was too frozen to decline. Sing? In front of all these people? To a song he might not know? With a stranger?

Dimly, he heard another flustered voice demurring, insisting “Oh, I don’t sing, why don’t you go?”

A very tall boy his age was prodded up to the stage. Ginger hair with a gentle curl crowned a head that was over half a foot above his own. A face that was clearly much paler than normal only served to further accent the galaxy of light brown freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheeks. Virgil looked down, arms wrapped around himself, not wanting to get caught staring. It would be just his luck to be forced to embarrass himself in front of one of the prettier men he’d ever seen. He could hear his new friend wolf-whistling from the crowd.

Microphone stands were in front of each of them. Virgil felt his heart rate jump higher as the first piano notes started and lyrics began to scroll on the karaoke screen. Wait, did he actually know this song? Ugh. The antsy boy beside him was probably going to bolt from the stage anyway, why did it matter?

~~~~~~~~~

Roman felt his stomach turn to ice the minute the spotlight light up his face. He tried to avoid it, but he couldn’t actually run away, not with everyone watching. It was karaoke, no one expected him to be good at singing, right? If he put in just the slightest effort, it would be over soon. His nerves were humming like he was about to shoot a free-throw with 10 seconds left on the game clock. He looked for his singing partner and was surprised to see it was another boy. He was so short Roman almost missed him at first. Dark wavy brown hair fell over eyes that looked to be a rich umber color, when they weren’t downcast. A bright blue sweater that fit very well accentuated the warm tones in his brown skin. Roman caught himself and looked away. There was a jittery-ness running throughout his body that had nothing to do with singing in public but that he couldn’t explain. Why did he keep wanting to glance as the short boy next to him instead of anywhere else in the room? Especially since his fellow karaoke conscript was clearly trying to will himself out of existence.

The DJ delightedly turned on his microphone and clapped both men on the shoulders. “Hey, you know what? Someday - someday - you guys might thank me for this. Or not.”

With a grin, the older man whisked himself away and the music began.

The lyric highlights were about to start. _Well, I’m here, everyone’s staring, and that won’t stop if I just stand here in silence._

He took a nervous breath, and sang the opening lines.

“Livin’ in my own world  
Didn’t understand  
That anything could happen  
If you take a chance.”

The other boy was petrified. Roman would be stuck up here with a silent partner, and he could tell he was going to turn red any second. He was about to make his escape when he heard a soft voice continue the melody he’d begun.

“I never believed in  
What I couldn’t see  
I never opened my heart  
To all the possibilities”

The shorter boy was actually singing. And… his voice was beautiful. Roman felt his throat catch as he stepped back to the microphone just in time to hit the first pre-chorus together. Roman kept shooting glances over, hearing his partner sing but never managing to meet his eyes, not knowing that the minute he looked back at the screen, the shorter boy did the same to him.

Their eyes finally met, equally hesitant smiles growing wider as they saw the other looking back.

_“This could be the start of something new”_

Roman grinned more broadly as they got further into the song, adding riffs in between lines when he could. He saw his song partner smirk slightly at his antics and decided to lean into the performance, whipping off his blazer and dancing with the microphone stand. He wanted to make the small man laugh as he sang. How could this weird, alien experience feel so right, just like the song said? He wanted something from this boy who crinkled his nose as he sang and closed his eyes as he belted out the chorus, but for the life of him he couldn’t say what that something was. He took the microphone off the stand and danced closer, feeling a warm tingling as dark waves of hair were thrown back and the other boy relaxed, bopping to the beat and grinning as he sang. In his eagerness to get closer, Roman almost danced the smaller boy off the stage, but a helpful audience member caught him and pushed him back almost into Roman’s arms.

The song finally reached its ending note, and the crowd erupted into cheers. Roman was taken aback - had people actually been watching? Dimly he realized they’d been clapping along and cheering the whole time, but it had faded into the background like the crowd at his basketball games, when the whole world became just his teammates, the opposing team, and the ball. Except this time, it had just been his duet partner. Who was smiling at him in a way that made him want to run a marathon, or wrestle a bear, or wrap his arms around the smaller man and sweep him off his feet.

Wait, what was that last thought? Why would he want to sweep a _boy_ off his feet? That was something he should want for a girl, wasn’t it?

He was interrupted by the smaller boy giving him a small, two fingered salute. “By the way, the name’s Virgil.”

“Roman.”

“Well then, Roman, want to grab a drink?”

 

#### SCENE: Ski Lodge Patio, Five Minutes to Midnight

Virgil watched Roman blow on his hot chocolate to cool it as they walked out onto the patio of the party room, finding a spot near a fire pit that overlooked the snowy mountain. He wasn’t sure how there was any hot chocolate left from how many marshmallows the lanky man had crammed into his cup. Was that how he’d gotten so tall? Or had the sugar been why he wore the height so well, all toned muscle and perfect shoulders.

“So, Virgil, you must be a singer, right?” Roman asked, once his mouth was clear of sugary sweets. “I mean, you were incredible. Your voice is really amazing!”

Virgil grimaced. “Not really a singer, no. I used to sing in a church choir when I was younger. But only ever in a group. I tried singing a solo once and literally fainted.”

“Fainted? Why?”

Virgil winced at the memory. “I took one look at all the people staring at me, and next thing I knew I was staring at the ceiling surrounded by abuelas.”

“Really? The way you sang tonight, kinda hard to believe!”

“Nah, this was definitely a first. I’m honestly still shocked I didn’t black out. But what about you? You _must_ be a singer - are you the sings-on-YouTube kind or the started-a-band-in-the-garage kind?”

“The serenades-my-showerhead kind,” Roman replied, ignoring something that sounded suspiciously like a snort. “I can’t say I’ve ever sung in front of other people before, and definitely never intentionally. Tonight was… all sorts of new for me.”

A wind blew through, making Virgil shiver and step closer to the firepit and Roman. “It was new for me too. But new in an exciting way. Thanks for not, I don’t know, ducking out. I don’t think I could have stayed up there without you.”

He looked up into Roman’s startlingly green eyes. Something flickered in them, just as the crowd around them started to count down the seconds to the new year.

“10… 9… 8…!”

He edged just a bit closer. He’d known he wasn’t straight for years, even if he had all of one practical experience to base it on. But right now, all he could think about was Roman’s bright hair, how his face had flushed as he sang, and that kisses at midnight was supposed to be good luck for the new year.

“7… 6… 5…!”

The way Roman’s eyes kept darting to his lips and back to his eyes, Virgil was pretty sure the tall man wanted to kiss him back. But he was too tall for Virgil to make the first move. So he just edged a bit closer, hoping the tall man would get the hint.

“4… 3…!”

The moment was here - would he do anything? Virgil tentatively reached out for Roman’s hand, and the tall man let him automatically, almost like a reflex. Their eyes kept meeting, and that flame that looked like attraction was still in those emerald rounds. But so was… confusion?

“2… 1… HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The whoops and sudden staccata of fireworks brought Roman back to the present. He dropped Virgil’s hand like a hot brick, blushing a crimson that clashed horribly with his ginger hair.

Virgil swallowed the lump that was suddenly in his throat. “I, um. I should go find my mom. Wish her a happy new year. It was, uh, good meeting you, Roman.”

Roman nodded, still redfaced. “Me too. I mean, not your mom. My mom. And dad. Uh… I won’t be here still, tomorrow - but I could text you?”

Virgil was confused. Roman clearly didn’t return the attraction as he’d hoped, so why exchange numbers? Might as well. He could just delete and ignore, at worst. He handed his phone over, and was handed one in return. Roman typed quickly, and snapped a quick selfie in the flashing lights of the fireworks. Virgil shrugged, but did the same, and handed the phone back. The lump in his throat refused to go away, though. Roman looked like he was about to speak, but Virgil couldn’t bear to hear the outright rejection at this particular moment. He forced a smile and flicked a small two-fingered salute at the tall man before melting away into the crowds.

The party had gone both much better and far worse than he’d hoped or feared. He glanced at the picture of the newest contact in his phone. At least one thing was for certain: he’d never see Roman Bolton again.


	2. Welcome to East High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter break is over, and Roman returns to East High hoping to be distracted from the memory of his cute singing partner. It's a bold move, let's see if it pays off for him.

#### SCENE: One Week Later - East High School, New Mexico

After a week of crises and overthinking, Roman was actually relieved to be going back to school. Anything that could distract his mind from dwelling on that confusing moment of a warm hand in his, huge brown eyes only inches away, and the strangest urge to want to breach even _that_ distance with a kiss. A kiss, with a boy? Where had that come from? Even calculus had to be less confusing.

Don’t get him wrong - he had no problem with boys kissing boys. One of his best friends and teammates was the president of the Gay-Straight Alliance at East High! But _Roman_ wasn’t gay. Wouldn’t he know, if he was? True, he hadn’t been really interested in any girls but he’d just been so busy with basketball. Freshman year had been all about pushing himself on JV, which had gotten him to starting varsity sophomore year. With Coach as his dad, practice never really stopped. So of course he hadn’t had time for crushes. Right?

Ugh, this was why even school was a welcome distraction. Roman hopped off the bus into a crowd of his favorite people - his teammates. There was Remy Danforth, spinning a basketball on his finger as he snarked with the cheerleaders. Catching Roman’s eye, he grinned and tossed to ball away to grab his co-captain in a bear hug. “Ro, my main man, how are you?”

“Hey Rem, happy new year”

“Happy WILDCAT new year, my dude! Two weeks to the championships, with Ro Bolton leading us to infinity and beyond!”

One of the male cheerleaders threw Remy’s basketball back at his chest, calling out, “What team?”

“WILDCATS!” the whole crowd responded.

“What team?” Remy called.

“WILDCATS!”

“Wildcats!”

“Get'cha head in the game!”

Roman joined in with the cheers,  knocking shoulders with his best friend. It was good to be back where things made sense. He looked around and immediately made eye contact with the one person you could always pick out of a crowd: another teammate, Patton Baylor. He towered over basically everyone at six foot seven, even Roman and Remy. But no one could be less threatening than Patton. A mop of highlighted loose curls bounced around a face that was made to smile, dark eyes glinting through wire frames. White teeth flashed in a perpetual grin, topped by dark freckles that stood out even on his light black skin. He was the school’s sweetheart, the one everyone knew and loved and had probably had a crush on for at least a week. If you hadn’t noticed him as the only head and shoulders above the crowd, he’d noticed _you_ sitting alone at lunch or with a slight frown and had gone out of his way to cheer you up. He was a queer teen who’d given new life to the school’s stagnant GSA, trying to make it a space for being social just as much as to commiserate the unique challenges of being in the LGBTQIA+ community, or as Pat had taken to calling it, the ‘QUILTBAG Family’. Remy had made a show of complaining about valuable practice time lost, but went to meeting after meeting anyway, as support and to “make sure you Queen Bs don’t forget the true A.” Rem didn’t feel particularly interested or invested in exploring his own identity, but if he wasn’t there to be the mascot of the aro/aces, who would all his young tiny ones turn to?

The mass that was the team and cheerleaders moved into the school as last, but a ripple in the crowd soon split them apart. Two heads of perfectly-dyed blonde hair were sweeping through a crowd that parted like the Red Sea. Diego Evans was making his way through the crowd,  glued to his phone with his twin brother Cedric at his elbow. Cee & Dee were the resident royalty of East High. Dee had acquired a sizable following on Instagram for his makeup tutorials that incorporated his white-and-tan vitiligo, and even Roman could appreciate the artistry and effort that took. The boy just wasn’t particularly nice, and his brother followed him without question.

Remy rolled his eyes as the twins passed them. “Ugh, looks like the ice princes are returned from the South Pole. Looks like they spent their holidays the way they always do.”

“How’s that, Rem?” a teammate asked.

“Shopping for mirrors,” he replied with a smirk. The students around him laughed or groaned as they made their way towards the first homeroom period of the year.

Not everyone was amused. The sports crowd had stepped on the posters that the science club was trying to hang on the entranceway bulletin boards.

“Behold the zoo animals heralding the new year,” commented one as he adjusted thick-framed glasses.  “How very _tribal_.” The others rolled their eyes or nodded in agreement.

The warning bell sounded, and the halls emptied at last, just as two adults and a teenager emerged from the principal’s office.

Virgil grimaced at his mom. “My stomach hurts.”

Liza rubbed his back. “It always does on the first day at a new school. You'll do great, Virge. You always do, and I made my company promise that I can't be transferred again until at least after you graduate. We’re here to stay this time.”

The Principal Matsui smiled. “I reviewed your impressive transcripts, Mr. Montez. I expect your light will shine very brightly here at East High.”

Virgil blanched and muttered, “ _Mamá_ , I don't wanna be the school's freaky genius boy again.”

“Then just be Virgil,” Liza said with a smile. She kissed him on the forehead, brushing newly-dyed hair out of his eyes. He’d been up at 2am two days before, thoughts cycling through too many disaster scenarios of yet another new school, and he’d suddenly become fixated with the idea of having purple hair. He wouldn’t get pegged as _just_ the STEM prodigy if there was something else to distract everyone, right? They would notice the hair and not the person under it. Once he saw his dyed hair dried off and fluffy, he both loved it and was terrified it was too much. But it was too late to undo it now. He gave his mom a quick hug and followed the principal to his new homeroom.

Entering the classroom, Virgil was a bit taken aback. The blackboard was covered in velvet curtains and gold tassels with a huge ornament of tragedy and comedy masks, and there was a small raised platform turning the whole thing into a stage. He winced internally and took it to mean his homeroom teacher, Ms. Darbus, was also the theatre instructor.

The classroom was full of raucous teenagers catching up after winter break. He noted that a solid half the room was wearing sports jerseys or sweaters in the school’s colors of red and white, and one laughing boy was actually holding a basketball instead of any books or pencils. Who _did_ that? So far, the only thing that felt familiar about yet another new school was Virgil could feel himself on the edge of about 10 crushes at once. Every student in this school was beautiful, and it wasn’t fair. He turned to introduce himself to Ms. Darbus. She was a slightly-eccentric-looking woman, with flyaway grey hair pulled into a bun and huge, jeweled glasses frames. Despite the perpetual warm weather in New Mexico, she wore all velvet with a bright purple shawl thrown dramatically over her shoulder. She took his introductory note from the principal and let him make his way to the empty desk in the back of the room. He bumped into a leg that was dangling out of its chair and only barely glimpsed vivid ginger hair as he muttered “Excuse me” and kept moving.

 

####  **SCENE: Homeroom, Ms. Darbus’ Classroom**

Someone bumped Roman’s desk, looking down. For a second he felt his heart jump - was that _Virgil_? But no, couldn’t be, this person was all in black and had purple hair. That didn’t seem at all like his New Year’s singing partner. He was probably just seeing things after how many of his thoughts had been filled with snippets of that night. Craning his neck for a better look, his vision was suddenly filled with a perfectly-contoured and made-up face.

“Hi, Roman,” Dee Evans said with a smile. “Did you have a good holiday?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah it was great,” he replied, barely noticing the blonde man’s smile as the bell rang.

“I trust you all had splendid holidays,” Ms. Darbus said loudly, calling the attention of the room to herself. “Check the sign-up sheets in the lobby for new activities, _Mr. Bolton_.”

Roman twisted to sit in his chair normally, flushing slightly. He could have sworn he saw movement somewhere behind him as his name was called, but he didn’t want to risk Ms. Darbus’ wrath. He slowly snuck his phone out of his pocket, hoping to check the selfie from New Year’s Eve and confirm if somehow, the man whose face had filled his _confusing_ dreams for the past week was suddenly here, in real life, hiding somewhere in the back row of the classroom.

“Yes, new activities, especially our winter musicale. We will have singles auditions for our supporting roles and pairs auditions for our two leads,” Ms. Darbus continued, smiling at Dee, who preened and smiled at his twin.

Remy rolled his eyes and blew a raspberry, spinning his basketball in place on his desk.

“Mr. Danforth, this is a place of learning, not a hockey arena,” Ms. Darbus fixed an icy glare on the lounging jock, before continuing. “There is also a final sign-up sheet for next week's scholastic decathlon competition. Science Club president Logan McKessie can answer all of your questions about that.”

The student in question raised a hand, flashing a very perfunctory smile at the room. Virgil looked over, then down with an nearly-invisible blush. Well, add one to the list of potential heartbreaks. A crisply cut fade gave way to simple twists that were just long enough to avoid looking spiky without flopping about, and black-rimmed glasses only serve to further accent gorgeously deep brown eyes set in smooth black skin. Perfect posture plus a button-down with a tie pointed towards a Type A personality if there ever was one. Virgil had met many driven people at previous schools, but he could tell this Mr. McKessie would give them all a run for their money, and look effortlessly good doing it.

Suddenly, Virgil’s phone was going off in his pocket. He’d forgotten to take it off silent, and a tinny version of   _Start of Something New_ filled the classroom. He grabbed at it frantically to silence it, but saw the caller id - Roman Bolton. Oh my god, was that really him in the front row? It couldn’t be!

Ms. Darbus looked ready to explode. She carried a can around the classroom, gathering up every device that was visible from everyone who’d pulled their own phones out at the sounds of Virgil’s.

“Cee & Dee, cell phones, and I’ll see you in detention,” she rapped out, startling an offended gasp from Dee.

“We have zero tolerance for cell phones in class,” she continued, towering over Virgil, “so we will get to know each other in detention. Cell phone, now. And welcome to East High, Mr. Montez.”

Virgil reluctantly dropped his phone in the bucket. _Great way to make a first impression, nice going, genius,_ he scolded himself furiously.

The imposing teacher was not yet done. “Mr. Bolton, I see your phone is involved. So we will see _you_ in detention as well.”

Remy was suddenly out of his lounging pose and arguing, “That's not even a possibility Ms. Darbus, Your Honor, see, 'cause we have basketball practice, and Ro…”

“Ah, that will be 15 minutes for you too, Mr. Danforth. Count 'em!”

“That could be tough for Remy, since he probably can't count that high,” Logan muttered to a student beside him. Virgil snorted, but the comment hadn’t been quiet enough to escape detection.

“Mr. McKessie, 15 minutes!”

Logan sat up, indignant, but seemed to realize it was useless to argue and deflated.

“Shall the carnage continue? Holidays are _over_ , people. Way over! Now any more comments, questions? …Patton?”

Patton lowered his hand from his seat in the back of the room, smiling. “How were _your_ holidays, Ms. Darbus?”

The rest of the class groaned or just stared at the cheerful young man as the bell rang out, dismissing them all to their first class of the day.

Being at the back of the classroom, Virgil half-hoped, half-feared Roman would just go on to his next classes without stopping. What could he possibly say to him? Virgil had _meant_ to text, but convinced himself out of it. Between the taller boy’s practically catapulting away from his attempt at a kiss and the lack of texts from his side as well, Virgil was pretty sure the ginger did not want to be reminded of their New Year’s encounter.

But his assumption proved to be at least partially wrong. There was Roman, leaning against the wall in the fakest casual pose Virgil had ever seen. Was it even a little comfortable to have one foot braced up against the wall like that? He suddenly froze. What if Roman wasn’t even waiting for him? He probably wasn’t - he was clearly popular. Virgil winced at his own naivety and turned out of homeroom, looking for his next class.

He was brought up short by a hand grabbing his shoulder. “Virgil, is that you?”

He turned and looked up into ridiculously green eyes, surrounded by pale skin tinged generously with a rosy blush. The list of crushes suddenly shrank to exactly one, and this one was _definitely_ going to break his heart.

“Roman, it _is_ you. I thought I was seeing things. I don’t believe it!” Virgil’s heart was thrumming, but the flutter was accompanied by an insistent whisper of _don’t get your hopes up don’t get your hopes up don’t get your hopes up._

“Me neither. How-?” The gingery jock seemed to be struggling for words, just smiling down at the purple-haired man in front of him.

“My mom was transferred here to New Mexico for work, but I had no idea you lived here! I, uh. I thought I might run into you at the lodge after New Year’s…”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, we had to leave first thing,” Roman said, looking around cautiously and pulling Virgil out of the flow of traffic.

“Are you looking for someone? Are you okay?” Virgil asked.

“What? Oh, no, it’s just um. I told my friends about the skiing and snowboarding from vacation but not about the, uh, singing,” he replied, blushing just a bit more under his freckles.

“Why would they care?”

“I mean, it’s… I really liked it, but to my friends… it’s not what I do. It’s not who I am. The boy who sang with you - that’s a different person.”

Virgil turned, no longer facing the taller man straight-on.  “I get it. It was a one-time thing, sure. Not to be a bother, but could you help me find my next class?” The whisper had only gotten louder, beating insistently under his skin _don’t get your hopes up don’t get your hopes up don’t get your hopes up._

“Of course! I didn’t mean - I’d still like to be friends,” Roman stammered. He started walking and realized immediately that his long legs carried him far too quickly for the shorter boy. He slowed down and led them past the activity bulletin boards.

Virgil tried to not dwell on the choice of words. _‘Friends’ is good. Friends means I won’t scare him away._ The whisper smirked at him as if to say _I told you so._

“I don’t know how big the schools you’re used to are, but ours isn’t too huge. I think I only got lost once my first week, and I still blame Remy for that. Have you met Remy? My height, black hair, always has a basketball and sarcasm?”

Virgil smiled. “I think I noticed him in homeroom. His ability to lounge in those tiny metal desks was quite impressive.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Ugh, he’d be so proud to hear that. He can fall asleep anywhere and is making a point to actually do it in every class except gym before graduation.” He saw the audition sheet for drama club and gestured as they passed it, grinning. “Now that you’ve met Ms. Darbus, I bet you can’t wait to sign up for _that_ ,”

Virgil grinned. “Oh yeah, definitely. Get me in there. No, I’m gonna just focus on classes for a bit, get to know the school. But if you try out, I promise I’ll come see the show.”

“That would be completely and utterly impossible, the team-”

“What’s impossible, Roman? I would think impossible isn’t even in your vocabulary,” Dee Evans said, appearing from around the corner. He tossed wavy blonde hair that brushed his cheekbones and smiled at Roman. Noticing Virgil half-hidden behind the basketball star, his smiled waned, then flashed back, tight. “So nice of you to show our new classmate around.”

He turned to the signup sheet and signed his name in metallic gold sharpie, with huge, flourishing script. As almost an afterthought, he added his twin’s name too. Turning to look at the two students standing in front of his list, he smiled again. “Did you want to sign up too? My brother and I have starred in all the drama club’s production and we just _adore_ newcomers. There are always ensemble and supporting roles to fill!”

Virgil ducked his head. “Oh no, I’m not signing up for anything. Just looking around. There really is a lot going on at this school, isn’t there?” He glanced at the audition list as he started to walk to class. “Nice penmanship.”

Dee smiled more genuinely as the purple-haired boy left. “Soo, Roman, I missed you over break. What did you do?”

Roman shifted nervously. “Uhh, you know, basketball. Some snowboarding. More basketball.”

“You are so dedicated, Ro,” Dee said, leaning in just a bit closer. “You and your team - it’s just like me and my play. I hope you’ll come see me in the musical, promise?”

“Uh, sure, yeah.”

“Can’t wait! Ta-ta, Mr. Bolton,” he said with a wink, moving off to attend his own next class. He shot a glare at Virgil’s retreating back down the hall. Who was this new boy, and why did Roman look so nervous around him? Roman the popular, Roman the basketball star, Roman the boy Dee had been hopelessly crushing on ever since the ginger hit his growth spurt in seventh grade? He’d resigned himself to this being just another dumb crush on a straight boy, but could you blame him? The man was _gorgeous._ The whole school knew it, even the faculty. The athletics department had somehow gotten permission to put up a floor-to-ceiling poster featuring the basketball team, and this freckled Adonis with a smile to launch a thousand ships was smack-dab in the middle. But now Roman, the most well-known face in East High, was acting as a shepherd to some new… _boy_ ? And they’d been talking about _Dee’s_ musical?

Dee frowned as he walked and tapped his glossy red lips with his signature-color sharpie. It was time to investigate this 'Virgil Montez.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The full cast (almost) is introduced! Look at my good sons <3
> 
> I really love using human AUs to present a more diverse picture of the famILY, but I’m not that great at people descriptions in general. Please, please roast me in comments or direct message if my writing of characters of color is in any way insensitive or could be improved. If you’d prefer to do so anonymously, my askbox is open: rosesisupposes.tumblr.com.


	3. Get’cha Head in the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman flirts with the idea of the musical, and Roman and Virgil both contemplate what team they're part of.  
> [I swear this is not a 'bats for the other team' joke]

####  **SCENE: Gymnasium**

The gym echoed with chatter and sneaker squeaks as the basketball team warmed up for practice. Roman was stretching next to Remy, his thoughts still in the back in the entryway. “If you try out…” Virgil had said. Why was that idea just… sticking? He wouldn’t have time for a play, he couldn’t think about anything else for the next two weeks. The championship game was almost here. But the thought was rattling around anyway, refusing to let itself be ignored.

“Hey, Rem, you know the school musical? Is it true you get extra credit just for auditioning?”

“Boi, who cares,” Remy replied from a lunge.

“I mean, uh, extra credit is always good, right? For college?”

“My dude, you think Steph Curry or Lebron ever auditioned for a school musical? Especially right before the biggest game of the season?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” Roman demurred.

“Ro, the music is those shows is not good, okay? There’s no rock, no rap, no hiphop, just… show music.”

“Hey, Hamilton is show music _and_ hiphop,” Roman countered.

Remy rolled his eyes. “Like East High would ever be with it enough to do Hamilton. Like Dee would let Darbus put on a show that wouldn’t have him as the lead. C’mon. It’ll be all some ragtime shit, with costumes and makeup and tights - gurl, it’s frightening.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Roman said, deflating. “I just - nevermind, doesn’t matter.” He turned to the team and shouted “All right, Wildcats! Pair up!”

Practice drills started as normal, Roman quieting the nagging thoughts by focusing on the scrimmage. _Fake right, then break left. Watch out for the pick. Keep an eye on defense._ He made eye contact with Remy as he dodged around a defender. After playing together on teams and in their backyards since they were five, the two friends didn’t need words to strategize. Remy’s eyes flicked to Roman’s left, and he could tell that meant another defender was coming up behind him. He spun away and took the ball down straight to the hoop. He came face-to-face with Patton, so that was a no-go. A quick pass to Remy around him, then loop back. _Go for the outside J, Rem_ , he thought hard, and Remy either had the same thought or actually heard him. A perfect shot hit the corner of the backboard and sank into the net.

“That’s how we do it, Wildcats!” Remy whooped.

The endorphins were buzzing through his veins, the thrill of the success and synchronization.  The team was working as a unit, both offense and defense, all in the right places and moving in the right ways. There was a familiar easiness to it, just like he’d felt hitting the right note as Virgil sang by his side.

Wait a minute. Where was that coming from, now? This was not the time nor the place. _Goddammit, Bolton, get your head in the game._

He missed a pass from a teammate, not even noticing what had happened until Remy squawked at him in surprise and profanity. He offered apologies and tried to set himself to begin again, determined to focus. _Focus focus focus focus focus_ annddd he’d blanked and passed to a teammate who was entirely defended by Patton, and possession was lost. Focusing on focus was not helping.

Why was he feeling so… wrong? His muscle memory was as intact as ever, his knowledge of where to move and when to pass or shoot wasn’t changed. His head was in the game, wasn’t it? The team paused for water and a breather as Roman sat on the bleachers. He closed his eyes, trying to visualize the scrimmage to see where he’d hesitated or moved wrong.

His mind presented him instead with warm brown eyes only partly obscured by dark bangs, laughing and singing. A purple head by his side, walking through the hallways. _“I get it, it was a one-time thing,”_ accompanied by a twitch in the boy’s lips. Cold air clinging to every part of him, fended off only by the fire pit and Virgil’s body heat, stepping just a little closer, hopeful, those same lips so close to Roman’s own…

What was wrong with him? Everything had felt so right, in the moments he’d been near the shorter man. The singing, the idea of auditioning, all of it. Did that mean it was worth the risk? Should he go for it?

A voice and a rough hand broke him out. “Earth to Roman, come in, space cadet,” Remy drawled. Roman grabbed a towel and rubbed his face to clear his head. He really needed to shakes this. The state of his brain could only be described in Remy’s words as _yikes_.

He’d get through this. For the team. This was where he belonged, and he wouldn’t let them down.

 

####  **SCENE: Science Lab**

Virgil’s first real class of the day was chemistry, which was a relief. No matter where the class was in the curriculum, he wouldn’t be floundering to keep up. And it was nice to start the day off with something he could feel unequivocally good about.

He was dutifully copying down equations from the the board when a blonde head slid itself into his field of vision. Dee Evans was smiling at him across a lab bench, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “So it looks like you know Roman Bolton.”

“Not really, he was just showing me around,” Virgil said softly, shy.

“Usually Ro doesn’t tend to interact with new students,” Dee explained with a small laugh. “So you must just be… _special_.”

“Why not?”

“It’s really basketball 24/7 for him, not welcoming committee.”

Roman was confusing. Dee’s interest in Roman and Virgil himself was also confusing. Chemistry, luckily, was not. Virgil noticed an error in what his teacher had written. He was sure it was an error, but was it worth it to speak up and draw attention to himself? If he let the error go uncorrected, everyone else might be confused, and then they would be frustrated, and then they’d hate chemistry, and then they’d hate him for being good at chemistry…

_Easy,_ mijo _, just breathe,_ said the calm part of his brain that sounded like Mom. He took several deep breaths, in the pattern he’d learned from a therapist at least 5 moves ago. _In for four. Hold for seven. Out for eight._

He raised his hand. “Sorry, Ms. Hirose, but shouldn’t the second equation read 16 over pi instead of 8?”

The teacher frowned as she checked her calculator “I don’t believe so… oh. I stand corrected. Thank you, Mr. Montez - and welcome aboard!”

Virgil smiled and went back to his work as Dee, unnoticed, retreated to his twin. “Did you see that? And this guy was _looking_ at our audition list this morning. With Roman Bolton, of all people. There’s something freaky about him, and it’s not just his choice of hair color. Do you know where he’s from?”

Cee was staring at the board in consternation until Dee waved a hand in front of his face. He blinked. “Oh, no. I haven’t heard anything yet. Just that he’s new, and Roman was showing him around.”

Dee rolled his eyes. “Cee, I know _that._ I need to know _why_.” He went to pull out his phone, remembered it was still in Ms. Darbus’ detention can, and dragged his twin to the library with a groan of frustration.

Finally, some good information. Search results for ‘Virgil Montez’ had news clips from around the country going back at least 5 years, all concerning a certain ‘Whiz Kid’, ‘The Next Einstein?’, or ‘Young Prodigy.’ Awards, accolades, and trophies had followed him from city to city in science and math competitions. Cee stared over his brother’s shoulder. “If he’s so smart, why do you think he’s interested in our musical?”

“I don’t know that he is,” Dee admitted. “And we don’t need to be too concerned with amateurs. But there’s no harm in making sure Virgil is welcomed to school activities most appropriate to his interests. After all,” he said with a smirk at his own joke, “he loves _pi_.”

 

####  **SCENE: Theatre Scene Shop**

Detention with Ms. Darbus was unique to East High, to say the least. Virgil had never actually been to detention before, but had expected a small classroom, silence, and glares from the strong-minded teacher. Instead, he was told to report to the auditorium, where he and the other detention victims from homeroom were conscripted into volunteering for the drama department, assembling costumes and painting sets. He’d been assigned to a set piece, painting a huge wooden moon a silvery shade of blue. Painting was calming - or would have been, if Ms. Darbus hadn’t been striding around the shop admonishing her press-ganged volunteers as they worked. Her instructions to “Paint, paint! Let’s go!” made it that much harder to try to catch Roman’s eye from where Virgil saw him sitting atop a wooden tree, attaching paper leaves with a staple gun. Even in the harsh fluorescent lights of the scene shop, Roman was still gorgeous. It was in the middle of staring at a single ginger curl that had flopped onto the boy’s forehead that Virgil was interrupted by Logan McKessie.

The slightly-taller boy was as animated as Virgil had ever seen - that is to say, his smile looked genuine as he spoke. “The answer is yes, we would greatly appreciate your presence, Virgil”

“What are you talking about?”

“Did you not put these in my locker with an offer to join the scholastic decathlon team?” Logan asked, showing Virgil the papers in his hands. Virgil felt his stomach drop. They were printouts from his past schools - his awards and competition records, the publicity pages from tiny town newspapers… everything he’d been desperately hoping wouldn’t define him in this fresh start at East High.

“I- there must be some mistake. I didn’t print these, and definitely didn’t put a note in your locker. I don’t even know where your locker is,” Virgil said.

“Would you consider joining our team anyway?” Logan asked, hope in his dark eyes. “Our first competition is coming up in two weeks, and there would certainly be a place for you. Chemistry is one of the few areas in which we are unfortunately weak, and I’ve been unable to strengthen the team in that regard on my own.”

Virgil hesitated. “I don’t know that I should be joining any activities just yet. I just started, and I really need to learn my way around and catch up on the curricula of my classes…”

A voice interjected. “What a perfect way to get caught up: meeting with the smartest kids in school,” Dee Evans had wandered over from a table piled high with sequins. “What a generous offer, Logan - bringing our newest student into the fold with a team of his own.”

Virgil shot Dee a quizzical look. Why did he care if Virgil settled in or not? He opened his mouth to reply when Ms. Darbus stood on a step stool to address the assembled students.

“So many new faces in detention today! I hope you don't make a habit of it, but the drama club could always use an extra hand. And while we are working, let us probe the mounting evils of cell phones…”

 

####  **SCENE: Gymnasium**

Echoes of shouts and dribbling rang through the gymnasium as after-school basketball practice warmed up. Coach Bolton paced up and down the sidelines, checking form and technique. But something was missing.

“Wildcats, huddle up!” he called. As the team gathered, he scanned the assembled faces more carefully. “We have two weeks to the game, and I’m only concerned about one thing. Where are Remy and Roman?”

The team shifted uncomfortably, darting looks at each other. No one wanted to be the bearer of bad news.

“Boys, don’t make me ask again… where’s Rem and Ro?”

Patton spoke up unhappily. “Detention.”

His coach met his eyes. “With?”

“Ms. Darbus.”

Coach groaned. “Pair drills until I get back,” he called over his shoulder as he jogged out of the echoing room.

####  **SCENE: Theatre Scene Shop and Principal Matsui’s office**

Roman was on top of the tree, all the paper leaves attached save one. He dangled it slowly, trying to see how much he could tickle Remy until his friend woke up. He really could fall asleep anywhere. Looking down, he saw the brunette still managed to hold a basketball as he slept. _And people think_ _I’m_ _the one who spends too much time practicing_ , he thought with a grin.

Somewhere in the background, Ms. Darbus’ lecture on modern technology and kids these days was still going. “Perhaps the most heinous example of cell phone abuse is ringing in the theatre. What temerity! The theatre is a temple of art, a precious cornucopia of creative energy…”

A door slamming open got his attention. His dad was storming into the scene shop, his face like a thundercloud ready to pop.

“Darbus, where the HECK is my team? What are those two doing in a tree?”

Roman immediately clambered down from the fake branches and grabbed Remy, shaking him awake and out of the hollow set piece.

Ms. Darbus put up a hand, gesturing for them to freeze. “It's called _crime and punishment_ , Bolton. Besides, proximity to the arts is cleansing for the soul.”

Coach Bolton was unmoved. “Can we have a talk, please? And you two,” he said, pointing at his son and Remy, “get your as- get yourselves to the gym, now.”

Roman and Remy complied as basketball coach and drama coach walked side-by-side to the head office, anger crackling in their wake.

Coach and drama teacher had barely explained the context to the principal before they were interrupting one another.

“If they have to paint sets for detention, they could do it tonight, not during my practice!”

“If these were theater performers instead of athletes, would you seek special treatment?”

“Darbus, we are days away from our biggest game of the year, and you know it!”

“And we, _Bolton_ , are in the midst of our auditions for our winter musicale, whether or not you know it! This school is about more than just young men in baggy shorts flinging balls for touchdowns!”

Coach Bolton’s normally-pale face, an older, un-freckled version of his son’s, was currently redder than his school-issued windbreaker as he tightly responded, “Baskets. They shoot _baskets_.”

The principal intervened. “Stop it, both of you. You've been having this argument since the day you both started teaching here. We are one school, one student body, one faculty! Can we not agree on that?”

The two instructors glared at each other, but both backed down, nodding to the principal, who continued, “So, Coach, how's the team lookin'? Roman got 'em whipped into shape?”

Ms. Darbus let out a frustrated groan and turned on her heel to leave the office as her boss continued to talk about with her rival about the championship game.

####  **SCENE: Outside East High**

Logan walked beside Virgil as they were released from detention. He carried his books in an honest-to-god briefcase. Anyone else would have seemed pretentious and self-aggrandizing, but for Logan, it matched his demeanor and aesthetic perfectly. The science club president had been clearly trying not to hound Virgil, but couldn’t pass the chance to make a final case.

“We’ve never made it past the first round of the scholastic decathlon, Virgil. You could be the only element missing from our metaphoric periodic table.”

“Missing elements are still there, they just haven’t been discovered yet, for the most part,” Virgil pointed out, his backpack slinging from a single shoulder.

“As we’ve only just now discovered you! But this is exactly what I’m talking about. My specialties are math and physics, the less-applied sciences. We have those who focus on biology and ecology, even astronomy. I enjoy those subjects, but chemistry is a huge gap in our team’s collective knowledge. We’re passable, yes, but not experts. Not competitive. Not like you.”

Virgil sighed. “Logan, I appreciate that you want to do the best by your team. But I really just want to focus on my studies this semester, and help my mom get the new house organized. I’d love to join next year, or in the fall, but now that I’m finally staying put in one school, I want to take a minute to settle in.”

“I - no, that makes sense. Quite wise of you, in fact,” Logan relented, adjusting his glasses. “I understand the changes of moving can be quite disruptive and disorienting. Is there any way I can be of assistance in helping you find your bearings here at East High?”

Virgil gazed over the entranceway, with its warm stones and desert-plant gardens. It was definitely one of the prettiest schools he’d ever attended. “It’s all been a lot to take in but, um. What do you know about Roman Bolton?”

Logan stared for a moment, head turning in a way that strongly suggested a barely-suppressed eyeroll. “Roman Bolton is the figurehead of this school’s distracting obsession with placing athletics over academics. Quite literally, in fact - I don’t know if you’ve passed the ‘Wildcat Spirit’ mural yet, but you’ll know it when you see it. But as for Roman as an individual, I’m not particularly well-acquainted with that particular sub-species. However, I pride myself on knowing how best to acquire any needed information. Observe.”

He walked up to a group of students in matching tracksuits emblazoned with WILDCATS CHEER. Logan’s stoic face suddenly transformed into a huge grin as an alien giggle popped out of his mouth. “Ohmigod, isn’t Ro Bolton just... _the bae?_ ”

One of the boys in the group of cheerleaders mock-fainted as the others fanned themselves. “Ugh, if that ain’t the biggest MOOD. I would let him run me over, I swear to god. Those freckles? I die.”

Logan turned back to Virgil as he continued on. “Hold up, what was that?” Virgil asked. “I think that’s the only slang I’ve heard you use, and you still managed to use it wrong.”

“Oh, did I? Ah well. Cheerleader isn’t a language I practice often. I don’t even have flashcards for it. But as you can see from their reaction, they are of a piece with the team and with Roman the basketball boy. An alternate dimension different from our own.”

“That seems a little, I don’t know, extreme? Have you ever tried to get to know him? Or any of the basketball players? I can already tell you and Remy wouldn’t get along, but that Patton kid seems unbelievably nice. Like, about-to-start-singing-as-doves-land-on-his-arms nice.”

“I, uh, no, I’ve not gotten to know any of the team particularly well. Watch how it works in the cafeteria tomorrow. You can practically see the taxonomic classes of the school dividing around you. Unless you’d like to sit with the cheerleaders and discuss, what was it, ‘mood’?”

“Same,” Virgil deadpanned.

Logan’s brows knitted as they both boarded the late bus. “I’m not sure what you mean, that’s not even a complete phrase...?”

“Oh heck, were you not kidding about the flashcards?”

####  **SCENE: Gymnasium, Bolton Home**

Roman and Remy had joined the squad in scrimmage, grinding plays over and over until they got it right. Roman had managed to banish intrusive thoughts of dark eyes and music through sheer exertion. His muscles and brain were working too hard on specific formations and passes to let in anything else. And it was paying off. The team was working like a fine-tuned machine, every player in the right place at the right time, moving and passing almost without thought.

Coach huddled them up for a pep talk. “Boys, you know what we’re out here to do. The West High Knights have knocked us out of the playoffs three years running, and now we are one game away from taking that championship right back. This the time for us to make a stand.” He looked from face to focused face, serious yet encouraging. “The team is you. _You_ are the team. And this team does not exist unless each and every one of you is _fully focused_ on our goal.”

“And what team?” Remy called out.

“Wildcats!” the squad cheered back.

“What team?”

“WILDCATS!”

“Wildcats!”

“Get’cha head in the game!”

The coach hadn’t made eye contact, but Roman couldn’t shake the feeling that the whole speech had been aimed at him. He’d let his focus drop. Even if it had been for just a practice, wasn’t that selfish? Didn’t he owe it to his team to put aside any other distractions or pointless fantasies?

He didn’t have an easy answer, and so it continued to eat at him. Once he and his father had returned home, practice resumed on their home court.

“Ro, I still don’t understand this whole detention thing,” he said, catching the ball as it fell through the hoop.

“It was my fault. Sorry, Coach,” Roman replied, turning to brace himself for another play.

“Cross court,” came the spoken direction, and he automatically rolled into his place in what would be a team formation. “You know Darbus will take any opportunity to bust my chops. That includes yours, too. I don’t want you to get pulled away from the team and the game for pettiness.”

Roman made another free throw and sank it perfectly. He braced his arms on his knees, both to catch his breath and psyche himself up. “Coach - I mean, Dad? Did you ever think about trying something brand new, but were afraid of what your friends might think?”

“You mean like going left? You’re doing fine, c’mon, let’s play it again,” came his dad’s response, accompanied by a flung basketball.

“No, Dad,” Roman said, catching it and holding it still. “I mean, something _really_ new. And you want to try it, but it might be a disaster and they’ll all laugh at you.”

“Well then, maybe they're not really your friends. And that was my whole point about team today. You guys gotta look out for each other, and you're the leader.”

“Dad, that’s not what I-”

“There's gonna be college scouts at our game next week, Ro. Know what a scholarship is worth these days?”

“A lot,” Roman said, hanging his head in defeat.

“That’s right. So come on, focus, bud.”

Roman dribbled, dodged around his father, and landed another perfect basket over the man’s head, earning a whoop of approval.

His dad clearly wasn’t going to be able to focus on anything but the game. But did he have a point? Shouldn’t his friends support him in anything he tried to do, even if it wasn’t basketball?

Wouldn’t it be worth it to take the risk if it meant he could recapture a quarter of the feeling from New Year’s Eve?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly the best part of this AU is having an existing skeleton of dialogue to build off of. Mostly for the basketball terms. I Am Not a Sport Person.
> 
> I’m actually writing this fic as I go instead of all in advance so it’s gonna be a lil sporadic, and I apologize in advance. Ways to help encourage me include kudos, comments, and recommendations for fluff and high school au fics :]


	4. What I've Been Looking For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Auditions for the winter musicale take place, and it goes about how you'd expect -right up until the very end.

####  **SCENE: Homeroom and Hallways of East High**

A particular air was flowing in the Ms. Darbus’ classroom the next morning. There was a humming undercurrent of excitement that didn’t quite spread to every occupant, but filled those it touched.

Dee Evans was in full form, glowing in gold accents, from the line on his sneakers to his eyeshadow and lip liner. His head was out of his phone for once as he smiled at every student he walked past on his way to homeroom. Cee was in an equally good mood, in complementary shades of silvery blue with a matching hat in navy. He carried a small gift bag with artfully arranged tissue paper. Cee handed the bag to Dee, who placed it on Ms. Darbus’ desk with a flourish. “Just a little something for you in honor of today!” he said with another bright smile.

As he returned to his desk, the rest of the class filtered in. Virgil and Roman made eye contact as they found their desks, sharing a small smile before Remy called Roman’s attention away. Patton Baylor chatted happily from his spot at the center of a small crowd of students, all of whom looked up at him with slightly starry eyes. Logan McKessie brushed past the crowd, his face buried in a book on theoretical physics. Murmurs of chatter slowly quieted as Ms. Darbus stepped on the stage at the front of the room.

“I expect we all learned our homeroom manners yesterday, correct? If not, we have some dressing rooms that need painting,” she said imperiously. Remy rolled his eyes at Roman as he leaned on his basketball as a pillow.

“Now, a few announcements,” she continued, brightening. “This morning during free period will be your chance for the musicale auditions, both singles and pairs.” Dee sat up even straighter in his seat, clapping in excitement. “I will be in the theater until noon for those of you bold enough to extend the wingspan of your creative spirit.”

Remy snorted. “When you’ve got auditions at 11 but have to be back on the mothership by noon,” he snarked under his breath. Roman had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from catching the teacher’s attention with his laughter.

Unaware of her students’ commentary, Ms. Darbus began to instruct. “Today, we are going to discuss the importance of William Shakespeare and his works. Can anyone tell me of a phrase or word we use in everyday language that was originally coined by the Bard?”

Behind him, Roman could hear Remy sliding dark glasses over his eyes as he settled in to nap.

~~~

Later that day, Roman was sorting through the books in his locker when Remy came up, spinning his basketball on a finger.

“Sup, gurl.”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“So the whole team's hitting the gym during free period. What do you want to have us run?”

Roman looked directly at the books and binders in his locker as he answered. “Uh, my dude, you know what, I can't make it. I gotta catch up on some homework.”

Remy snorted. “Bitch, it's only the second day back. _I'm_ not even behind on homework yet. And you know I've been behind on homework since preschool.”

Roman forced a laugh. “Oh, Rem, you’re so funny! I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” He closed his locker and walked off before his friend could offer another objection.

Remy pulled his sunglasses down his nose to stare at his friend’s retreating back. “Homework? Girl, nah.”

He followed Roman down the hallway as the team captain turned into a classroom to chat with another student. Remy slid up to the door as he tried to see where he was going, listening to their idle chatter. Then someone bumped him. He turned to see Patton and a small handful of admirers.

“Remy! How are you today?”

“Hi Pat - I’m good, thanks, just busy…”

“Not too busy to miss the GSA meeting this afternoon, right?”

“Never too busy for my little minions, you know that,” Remy said with a fond smile.

“Oh good,” Patton said, his bright teeth a contrast to his brown face and browner freckles. “See you later, _gay_ -ter!”

He turned and walked off with his friends as they giggled and Remy rolled his eyes. Turning back to the classroom, he realized it was empty. Roman has escaped him. “Boo, you whore,” he muttered to himself. “What could possibly be more important than basketball?”

Roman slipped down the southern stairwell of the school, checking behind him to make sure Remy was off his tail. He wasn’t sure he say why he felt so compelled to at least _watch_ the auditions, but he knew that for some reason, he needed to be there. That need wasn’t quite enough to admit to even his best friend in the whole world what he was doing, though. He strolled through one of the lower courtyards, alert for any team members who might see him and ask why he wasn’t heading to the gym. He turned a corner and immediately turned back. Here he’d been worried about teammates when Coach himself was in the next courtyard, clearly looking for him. Had he seen him? Were those his footsteps walking in his direction?

_Crapcrapcrap gottahide gottahide_

Roman ducked into the closest door, the auto body and mechanics shop. He put on an air of nonchalance as he leaned behind a car, seeing his dad glance into the shop from the corner of his eye. Coach didn’t spot him, though, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He turned his head to see the shop teacher staring at him oddly.

“Uhh, shortcut,” he said lamely. “I’m… late for class. Gotta go, thanks, bye!”

He walked quickly out, from the auto shop to the woodshop. He could hear snatches of a tune played on the piano from here, where the woodshop connected to the backstage and green room areas of the auditorium. He took a deep breath. This was it - the auditions. He could as least get up the courage to watch, right? He walked into the backstage, trying to summon more confidence. Then he heard another person walking towards him and immediately ducked behind a janitor’s cart, hunching over to hide his face behind the mop.

 

####  **SCENE: Auditorium**

The auditorium and backstage were buzzing with chatter as multiple auditioners filed into the audience seats. Ms. Darbus strode to the stage to welcome them all, a small person in her wake. They seemed to be trying to hide from the crowd behind their bright orange beanie and also behind Ms. Darbus herself. The drama teacher took center stage and addresses the crowd.

“This is where the true expression of the artist is realized. Where inner truth is revealed through the actor's journey…”

She was interrupted by a loud ringing, and immediately glared at the crowd in front of her. “Was that a cell phone?”

“That was the warning bell, Ms. Darbus,” the student at her elbow whispered.

“Ah, I see,” she said, clearing her throat. “Those wishing to audition must understand that time is of the essence. We have many roles to cast and final callbacks will be next week.”

Roman slowly made his way to the back of the auditorium, still hiding behind the janitor’s cart as he listened. Callbacks, next week? In the same week as the big game? Luckily, even if he somehow got the nerve to audition, there’s no way he’d get called back. That was a thing that only happened to real actors, right?

Ms. Darbus was still reviewing the audition process. “Please come to the stage on your turn. Once you’ve introduced yourself, you will sing a few bars and I will give you a sense of whether or not the theater is your calling. Better to hear it from me now than from your friends later.” From his hiding spot, Roman gulped. Maybe this whole ‘audition’ thing was a mistake. “Our composer, Joan Stokes, will accompany you and be available for rehearsals prior to callbacks. Shall we?”

Joan took their seat at the piano bench as the first singer came to the stage.

“Hi, I’m Derionna!” she said with enthusiasm. She dove into singing, with plenty of energy but perhaps not a lot of rhythm.

“It’s hard to believe that I couldn’t see that you were always right beside me. Thought I was alone, with no one to hold, but you were always right beside me”

Joan played well, trying to get her to match their beat, but she was snapping to her own beat and seemed unaware.

“Thing feeling’s like no other, I want you to know…” she paused, seeming to have forgotten the rest of the song. Ms. Darbus took the opportunity to jump in.

“Uh-huh, thank you, next!”

A nervous-looking, gangly boy came to the stage. He seemed to be speaking rhythmically more than singing, and kept checking his hand for the words he’d written there.

“It’s hard to believe that I couldn’t sneeze - see! That you were always right there next to beside me!”

“Camden, I admire your pluck. As to your singing... That's a wonderful tie you're wearing. Next!” Camden smiled and smoothed his tie as Ms. Darbus’ words sank in. His face fell as he shuffled off the stage.

Roman winced through the next singer. Even he could tell she was badly off-key and trying to conceal it by winking frequently, directly at Ms. Darbus. Joan mouthed the words along with her, trying to get her back on rhythm, but it was to no avail.

“Please, stop,” Ms. Darbus finally interjected. “Thank you, Brittney. Next!”

Another auditioner. She was clearly talented, but was also singing as if in an opera, not a musical.

“So lonely befooorrrre I finally fooooo-hooounnddd what I’d been lookiiiiing fooooooooooooooooooor!” She held her last ear-piercing note as Joan stopped playing in shock and audience members tried to subtly cover their ears.

“Ah... Valerie,” Ms. Darbus said with forced cheer. “What... _courage_ to pursue a note that has not been accessed in the natural world. Bravo! Brava! Perhaps the... _spring_ musicale?”

Valerie frowned and looked over at Joan. They forced a smile as Valerie _hmphed_ in affront and left the stage. She was almost knocked over by the next auditioner, a tall, graceful man who leaped onto the stage to the opening bars of the audition song. Joan stopped playing once again, confused. The auditorium was silent as the dancer pirouetted and jetéd before elegantly leaving the stage. The effect might have been perfect, had not he crashed into an unseen obstacle backstage that was audible to everyone. Joan looked over in concern as Ms. Darbus coughed politely. “Thank you, Leo. Next!”

Up came a pair of auditioners, one very short student with brightly-colored hair, the other a man with a headband and bangs swept to one side. The shorter of the two started delivering a dramatic reading of the song as the other whispered echoes of their words.

“It’s hard to believe that I could not see”

_“See”_

“That you were always right beside me”

_“Beside me”_

The pair accompanied their words with strange motions that appeared to be attempting interpretive dance

“Thought I was alone!”

_“Alone”_

“With no one to hold!”

_“Hold”_

“But you were right beside me”

_“Beside me”_

They both began to roll and crawl on the floor as Joan backed up their piano bench as far away as possible.

Ms. Darbus had been stunned into silence, but finally found her voice again.

“Talyn, Dominic, that was… that was just... very disturbing, go see a counselor. Next!”

A hand suddenly tapped Roman on the shoulder, and he jumped so high he almost hit his head on the doorway. Virgil had come up behind him, smiling wryly.

“Hey there - did you decide to sign up for something?”

Roman ducked his head. “Uh, no. I was just… watching. Did you?”

Virgil shook his head, his purple bangs falling into his face. “So, uh, do you often hide behind mops, or do your friends just not know you’re here?”

Roman flushed lightly and shook his head in response as another auditioner came to the stage. She stood tall and adjusted her glasses as Joan began the opening bars. She took a breath to sing as she looked out at the audience, and froze.

“Thank you, Dahlia. NEXT!”

Roman winced. “Ms. Darbus seems a little… harsh,” he observed quietly to Virgil.

Virgil smirked. “Roman Bolton, Wildcat superstar, afraid?”

“Not afraid,” he protested. “Just… a little, uh… scared.”

“Me too, usually,” Virgil said, rubbing his neck. “But, um. I was thinking of actually auditioning, if someone could sing onstage next to me?”

Roman blanched with fright. “Um, uh, I could--  I mean, possibly, uh--”

“And for the lead roles of Arnold and Minnie we only have one couple signed up,” Ms. Darbus said happily. Virgil pushed Roman slightly as he hurried to hide behind the janitor’s cart with him. “Diego and Cedric, I think it might be useful for you to give us a sense of why we gather in this hallowed hall.”

Cee and Dee walked from the audience to the stage, flashing smiles at the remaining audience. As Cee started up the stairs, Dee stopped him so that he could go first.

Joan caught Cee as the twins picked up their microphones. “What key did you want?”

“Don’t worry about it, we had our rehearsal pianist do an arrangement,” Cee said with a smile.

Joan deflated. “Oh. Okay.”

The curtain closed as Dee & Cee prepared to sing. Virgil tugged on Roman’s arm to follow him as he found a seat in the last row of the auditorium.

The music started, jazzy and far more upbeat than the previous auditions. Two pairs of hands stuck through the curtain and snapped to the beat, before the curtain opened to reveal Cee & Dee with matching bedazzled microphones in silver and gold, respectively.

“It’s hard to believe that I couldn’t see,” Cee sang. He had an unarguably nice voice, and his perpetual smile matched the bouncy drumbeat the accompanied them.

“That you were always there beside me” Dee joined in, singing in harmony with his twin. Virgil wrinkled his nose as he watched. The pair were both excellent singers, but they kept adding in a _lot_ of over acting, pretending to be surprised by each other on “beside me.” Even for a musical, this felt corny. But Ms. Darbus was clearly enjoying it, bopping along from her spot in the audience.

Roman physically recoiled as Dee handed off his mic to perform a peppy tapdance solo in the middle. “Is this normal?” he whispered to Virgil, who grimaced.

“I don’t think so,” he responded, nodding a head at Joan. The pianist watched from their bench, looking vaguely horrified at the spectacle in front of them.

The pair continued on through the song, adding full choreography. Cee even broke in the middle to do a highly energetic jazz square with accompanying jazz hands before accidentally bumping into Dee. His twin scowled and pushed him, but both recovered and smiled as they continued to sing.

They finally came to a close, Ms. Darbus and the sprinkling of audience members applauding enthusiastically. Dee shot Joan a glare until they clapped too.

Holding their final pose, Dee hissed in Cee’s ear. “I told you not to do the jazz squares.”

“It's a crowd favorite. Everybody loves a good jazz square,” his twin shot back, grinning hugely.

As the applause quieted, Ms. Darbus stood. “Are there any last minute sign-ups?”

Roman stood and tried to edge out of the theater without being spotted as Cee appealed to the dispersing crowd. “Don't be discouraged. The theater club needs more than just singers. It needs fans, too! Buy tickets!”

Joan caught Dee’s attention as he strode backstage. “Oh, actually, if you do the part with that particular song, I imagined it much slower…”

“ _If_ we do the part? Joan, Joan, my sawed-off Sondheim, I have been in 17 school productions. And how many times have your compositions been selected?”

“This would be the first,” Joan admitted.

“Which tells us what?” Dee asked with a tight smile.

Joan flinched and offered, “That I need to write you more solos?”

“No,” Dee snapped, his smile dropping. “It tells us that you do not offer direction, suggestion, or commentary.” He advanced on Joan, who backed up nervously into their piano. “And you should be thankful that Cee and I are here to lift your music out of its current obscurity. Are we clear?”

“Yessir! I mean, Diego.”

Dee backed down, then smiled brightly, lifting his mic closer to his mouth again. “Nice talking to you!” He followed his twin backstage with a tiny wave.

“Any last minute sign-ups?” Ms. Darbus called again.

“We should go,” Roman whispered at Virgil, reaching out to grab his hand.

“No?” The theater teacher said, looking around. “Good. Done.”

Suddenly, Virgil was pulling away from Roman’s hold and speaking up. “I'd like to audition, Ms. Darbus!”

Roman’s mind went into overdrive. _What is he doing? What? How!? Why?!_ He gestured wildly at the smaller man, willing him to somehow take back his words and for them both to disappear.

Ms. Darbus looked up, surprised, but her surprise quickly morphed to disapproval. “Timeliness means something in the world of theater, Mr. Montez. The individual auditions are long, long over and there are simply no other pairs.”

Roman stuffed his fear into a tiny corner and emerged from his hiding place behind the theater door. “I’ll sing with him.”

The drama teacher pursed her lips. “Mr. Bolton? Where is your sports posse or whatever it's called?”

Roman stared. “Team”

“Ah.”

“But I’m, uh. I’m here alone,” Roman stuttered out. He felt as nervous as he ever did right before a game. “I’m actually here to sing with him.”

Ms. Darbus was unimpressed. “Yes, well, we take these shows very seriously here at East High. I called for the pairs audition, and you didn't respond. Free period is now over.”

“He has an amazing voice,” Roman protested, gesturing towards Virgil. Virgil looked vaguely queasy over the confrontation, and appeared to be attempting to will himself out of sight or out of existence, whichever came first.

“Perhaps the next musicale, then,” Ms. Darbus said, and left the auditorium.

Just then, Joan tripped as they turned away from the piano, spilling sheet music in every direction. Roman and Virgil hurried to the stage to help them.

“So, you’re a composer?” Roman asked, smiling at the piano player. “You wrote the song Dee and Cee just sang? And the entire show?”

Joan seemed unable to speak, but nodded weakly, staring at Roman like an alien had just landed in the middle of theater.

“Well, that's really cool. I, uh, can't wait to hear the rest of the show,” he offered, helping them up. “So, uh, why are you so afraid of Cee and Dee? Or, Dee, at least. It’s your show, isn’t it?”

“Um, it is?” Joan asked, confused.

“Isn't the composer of a show kinda like the playmaker in basketball?” Roman asked with a smile. Both Virgil and Joan stared at him in incomprehension.

“Playmaker?”

“You know, the one who makes everyone else look good. I mean, without you there is no show. You're the playmaker here, Joan.”

“I am?” they responded, smiling tentatively. “Do… do you want to hear how the duet’s supposed to sound?”

Virgil nodded, and tossed a small grin Roman’s way. The taller man covered his face with a hand to hide what felt like another blush and followed the composer back to the piano, standing behind them to read the sheet music over their shoulder.

Joan tapped a foot to the proper timing, a much slower, sweeter tune than the one the twins had performed, and prompted Roman to begin at the right moment.

It was like New Year’s Eve all over again, and yet nothing like it. The fluttery nervousness was still there, but without the surprise or fear of the crowd. And this time, he wasn’t standing with a mysterious stranger who might run away. It was Virgil, smiling up at him as he came in for the second line. He no longer felt the same electrifying urge to grab the other boy’s attention at any cost - he just wanted that smile to keep being directed his way.

“I've never had someone that knows me like you do,” they sang in harmony, eyes meeting. Was Virgil _blushing?_ Roman couldn’t be sure, especially as the shorter man turned back to the sheet music.

They finished in harmony and paused, all three appreciating the sweetness of the tune.

“Wow,” Roman finally said. “That’s really nice, Joan.”

Suddenly, a voice sounded from the rear of the theater. “Bolton, Montez,  you have a callback.” Ms. Darbus stood at the entrance, looking less severe with her glasses removed. “Joan, give them the duet from the second act. Work on it with them.”

Joan gasped in delight, then started bubbling over with plans. “All right. If you guys wanna rehearse, I'm usually here during free period and after school, and even sometimes during biology class. You can come and rehearse anytime. Or you can come to my house for breakfast. I have a piano, we can rehearse there. After school, before school - whatever works. After basketball class… do you have basketball class? Is that a thing?”

Virgil listened to the pianist, smiling a bit bemusedly, as Roman stared after Ms. Darbus’ retreating back in shock.

“We- she- what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's able to write fluff again! Trust me, no one's as surprised as I am. 
> 
> (I know all of Thomas' friends are incredibly talented and would never be the awkward/bad auditions, but I feel like they'd have fun acting it out :])


	5. The Status Quo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The callbacks list has been posted, and suddenly, this singing thing is real. This is the part where the school goes _ballistic._

####  **SCENE: Hallways of East High, the Next Day**

_“CALLBACKS?”_

The entrance hall echoed with Dee Evans’ distressed screech. Cee stood with him, trying to calm him as they both studied the posted list in the entrance hall. The list had the expected handful of names for the singles roles, but for the first time in years, so did the leads.

“Callbacks for Arnold and Minnie, next Thursday, 3:30pm,” Cee read aloud. “Cee & Dee Evans, Virgil Montez & Roman Bolton.” He frowned in confusion.

“Is this some kind of joke? They didn't even audition!” Dee snapped.

“Maybe it’s a prank!” Cee said, eyes lighting up. “Maybe this is part of one of those online prank compilations! You have all those fans, maybe they’re just messing with you!”

“Excuse you, the Dee-Lights would never do this to me,” Dee said grumpily. “Just shut _up,_ Cee!”

Behind them, the basketball team strolled in, led by Remy. Seeing the twins looking frustrated, Remy was ready to mock their distress without a second’s thought.

“What’s wrong, princess,” he drawled, looking over his sunglasses at the board in front of them. Then he read the names there, and his face fell.

_“Whomst the fuck?”_

He glared at Cee and Dee, as if this was their fault. Dee glared back with equal intensity as Cee nervously avoided eye contact with both of them. Remy turned on a heel and stormed off as his teammates stayed behind to stare, whispering among themselves.

 

####  **SCENE: Lunchroom**

Dee paced back and forth on the raised half of the lunchroom, still fuming. His brother and the rest of the drama club watched in varying degrees of nervousness, Joan’s the highest as they attempted to avoid the man’s notice.

“How dare that… _Montez_ boy sign up! I've already picked out the colors for my dressing room!”

“And he hasn’t even asked our permission to join the drama club,” Cee said sympathetically.

“Someone’s gotta tell him the rules,” Dee muttered darkly.

“Exactly,” Cee said with a smile, then frowned. “Wait, what are the rules?”

Dee rolled his eyes at his twin and scowled down at the lunch room as a whole.

Below him, the basketball team and cheerleaders were chatting and tossing around Remy’s ball as they ate. Energy for the upcoming game was high without bordering on stress - they still had a whole week, after all. Even the current lack of their team captain didn’t bring them down.

Patton Baylor was with the team today, smiling near the center of the group and making sure everyone was heard. At a lull in the conversation, he spoke out to them all.

“You all know how much I love our squad, right?”

“Of course, Pat,” a cheerleader said with an adoring smile.

“And I love basketball too -- when I’m on a roll-”

“It’s nothing but net!” a teammate exclaimed with a whoop.

Patton grinned. “And that’s why I want to confess something to you all.”

The entire group turned to listen excitedly, and not a few students at other tables as well.

“Uh, Pat, are you sure that’s a good idea, don’t forget Valentine’s Day freshman year…” Remy said, sipping from a huge container of iced tea.

“What happened?” an underclassman asked.

“He publicly came out as pansexual and there was a literal stampede as everyone who’d thought they weren’t his type raced to get him a card or candy. The teachers had to step in as traffic control. I was almost killed in the rush, swear to god.”

Pat waved a hand. “No, nothing like that, Rem! It’s just -- well, if Roman is going to be a singer, I want to confess, too.” He took a deep breath, and smiled around the small circle of athletes. “I bake!”

“Excuse me, what?”

“I love to bake! Strudel, scones, cookies - even apple pandowdy!”

Rem snorted. “First of all, no, Ro is not singing, there was clearly a mistake. Secondly, why?”

“I just like it! Someday, I hope to make the perfect crème brûlée…”

Teammates whispered to each other nervously. One freshman finally said, “But Patton - you’re a basketball player. Are you leaving us?”

“What? Of course not! I just also like baking!” Patton said. His bright smile was starting to falter, and he had started to nervously run a hand through his mop of bouncy curls.

“Pat, babes, let me give you some advice, okay?” Remy said, drawing the taller man in close. “Don’t mess around, okay? The championship game is coming up, and we need every player focused. Just stick to the stuff you know, hun. It causes less problems.”

Patton nodded his understanding, but sank into silence as talk resumed, a mask of concern replacing his perpetual smile.

He barely listened to his teammates as lunch continued, which is how he noticed the disturbance happening at the next table over.

The science club members were busily working on assignments and extra reading when they were interrupted by one of the shorter members.

“Guys, I have a secret as well.”

“You do? Well, please share, Terrence!” a student across from him said, leaning in to listen.

“You all know how much I enjoy the natural sciences, particularly ornithology, but to be quite frank, my passion is hip hop, and dancing. And I’m good at it, too. I can pop and lock with the best of them.”

“Is that even _legal?_ ” another student asked, looking disgusted.

“It’s just dancing. But it’s just so much fun that sometimes I’ll practice instead of homework!”

“Terrence, that’s ridiculous. You’re on the decathlon team - you know we don’t have any time to spare on non-intellectual pursuits. If you want to be a good team member, you’ll focus on your work, not some ridiculous dancing. We can’t disrupt our current team balance if we want to advance - we need to maintain the status quo.”

Terrence sat, dejectedly. But he looked up and made eye contact with Patton. They shared a half-smile of understanding, then both left their tables. They found an empty table in the middle of the lunchroom, and started to chat about their ‘different’ interests.

Another voice sounded from across the room. A tall student at the skater table was catching his friends’ attention. “Fam, I got this need that I cannot deny, and I wanna come clean.”

“Speak you mind, my man!”

“I play the cello!”

“Awesome! What’s a cello?” asked another skater, staring in confusion.

The tall student mimed the instrument and bow.

“A saw?”

“No, my dude, it’s like a giant violin,” he responded, smiling.

“What? That’s not rad at all. You don’t have to wear a _costume_ , do you?”

“Tux and tie, man!”

Another friend snorted in disgust. “I thought you wanted to be cool, Jamahl. That ain’t it.”

“But, I can still jam on it, it’s fun-”

“It’s a simple rule, dude. Pick your one thing and stick with it. You can’t pop an ollie _and_ play a friggin’ cello.”

Jamahl turned away from the group, and caught Terrence and Patton’s eyes. He looked at the skater table in disappointment, and walked away, joining the smaller group.

Rumbles continued across the lunchroom. In every clique, there were people breaking away, sparked on by hearing others’ confessions. More and more people came to join Patton’s new table. A science club member bumped into a history buff and they recognized each other’s Doctor Who pins. A drama club girl trying to convince her friend to return to the table saw a band geek’s _Hamilton_ t-shirt. The more people left their tables, the more they began to mix, until the groups were beginning to dissolve entirely.

Dee watched from above, fuming. “This is not what I meant by sharing the rules! I don’t understand. Something is...” he pursed his lips, searching for the correct word.

“Something’s not right!” Cee offered.

“Shut _up,_ Cee. Something is _wrong_.”

The rumbles of mixed conversations below him were raising to a peak when Dee suddenly shouted through the room, “Everybody _quiet!_ ”

Virgil Montez had just entered the lunch room, Logan McKessie at his side. Called to attention by Dee’s shout, every student saw them and stared.

Virgil paled, seeing hundreds of faces turned in his direction. “Um, Logan, why is everybody staring at us?”

Logan looked around, adjusting his glasses. “Oh, they are not staring at us.” Virgil started to calm down when Logan continued, “They are just staring at you.”

He blanched with fear, trying to look for an escape route through the crowd. “Because of the callbacks? I can’t have people staring at me, Lo. I really, _really_ can’t.”

Talk suddenly resumed at an even higher volume, parts of groups mixing while others tried to hold their members back, arguing loudly. Virgil edged through the crowd with Logan behind him, looking for a quiet corner where he could disappear. He clutched his lunch tray close to his chest, hoping he’d be able to eat his cheesy fries in peace somehow.

Logan stared at the crowds in confusion. Where was all this… _mixing_ coming from? Were those science club team members talking to basketball players and skateboarders? With a start, he saw his science club protegé Terrence chatting happily with Patton Baylor. He hadn’t realized that the school sweetheart had ever even _noticed_ people on the science team. Or, perhaps he’d been hoping he wouldn’t notice them. Somehow, the prospect of actually talking to the tall, friendly man was rather terrifying. _That is illogical, Logan, he is just a person. He offers no physical danger, he is just tall. The only thing about him that could cause harm is how his smile could probably make someone die from happiness._

_Wait, what?_

Logan shook his head to clear it of such odd thoughts, and in doing so noticed Dee Evans descending the stairs, staring directly at Virgil.

He attempted to get the shorter man’s attention, but as he tapped his shoulder, Virgil’s foot hit a patched of spilled milk and he slipped. His lunch tray went flying, airborne cheesy fries turning into greasy projectiles, all falling directly on Dee Evan’s perfectly coordinated green outfit.

Every student who saw the collision went silent, and the rest of the room followed suit as Dee began to scream.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, are you okay?” Virgil sputtered out, blushing a deep red that showed even on his golden-brown skin. Logan pulled him away as Dee began to hyperventilate and the teachers on lunch duty hurried over.

One was Ms. Darbus. “What is going on here?” she demanded, looking from Dee to Virgil.

Dee glanced at Virgil for the split second it took to make a decision. “Look at this!” he cried, his face the picture of dignified affront. “That Montez boy just dumped his lunch on me - on purpose! It's all part of their plan to ruin our musical. And those basketball robots are _obviously_ behind it! Why do you think Roman auditioned?” He sniffed delicately, getting choked up. “After all the hard work you've put into this show. It just doesn't seem _right_.”

As he spoke, Roman walked into the lunchroom, eyes going wide at the scene in front of him. He sidled over to Remy and gestured to the the pandemonium and the sniffling Dee.

“Hey, Rem, what’s up?”

“What's up? Oh, let's see…ummm...” Remy said sarcastically, gesturing with his tea for effect. “Your new boyfriend or whatever is attacking our resident YouTube Princess, you missed free-period workout yesterday to audition for some heinous musical, and now suddenly people are... _confessing_.”

Roman turned slightly red. “Boyfriend? I don’t have a- wait, confessing? What?”

Patton was walking by, heading towards the exit, when Remy grabbed him and pushed him in from of Roman.

“Exhibit A. This bitch is _baking_. Cream boolay or some shit.”

“Oh, what’s that?” Roman asked

“Crème brûlée!” Patton said, practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh, it's a creamy custard-like filling with a caramelized surface. It's _really_ satisfy-”

“Shut UP, Pat!” Remy groaned.

Patton went silent, dejected, and walked away, looking like he was trying to hide in plain sight. For a six-foot-seven basketball player, it was nigh impossible, but Jamahl and the skaters caught him and struck up a conversation.

Remy gestured angrily at the group. “You see what’s happening? Our team is coming apart because of this dumb _singing_ thing. The drama geeks, the brainiacs, they all think they can _talk_ to us. Look, the skater dudes are… mingling.”

Roman stared at his best friend. “Is that… bad?”

“Suddenly people are thinking that they can do other stuff. Stuff that is not _their_ stuff. They've got you thinking about show tunes, when we've got a playoff game next week!” Remy said, exasperated. “The team needs _you,_ Ro. You’re the captain. Without you, we have no leader. You know you’re my bro, but you need to decide where your focus is gonna be, and I hope you decide fast.”

He pushed his sunglasses back over his eyes and left the lunchroom, leaving Roman alone.

 

In the corner, Virgil was sitting with Logan, trying his best to hide from Dee and the rest of the drama club.

“Is Dee going to hunt me down? I did apologize and it was clearly an accident, right?”

“Virgil, I have not gone out of my way to learn more about the Evans twins, but I have been in their class since we were children. And no one has ever beaten Dee out for a role he had set his mind to, not since kindergarten.”

Virgil gulped. “I’m not trying to beat anyone out! We didn't even audition, we were just... singing.”

“I do not know that you will be able to convince him of that.” Logan responded, adjusting his glasses. “He is an admittedly talented actor, one who can happily and easily play characters of any gender. And he is incredibly ambitious. If he could convince Ms. Darbus to let him play both Romeo and Juliet, even Cee would be pushed out.”

“He’s welcome to it. This audition thing, it just happened. But… I actually liked it, a lot,” Virgil said, a small smile spreading across his face. “Logan, do you ever feel like there's this whole other person inside of you just looking for a way to come out?”

Logan stared back. “No.”

Virgil grimaced and looked down, embarrassed, before Logan continued. “You see, I have already come out, several years ago.”

Virgil looked up again, making eye contact with a straight-faced Logan. “Mr. McKessie, was that a _joke?_ ”

“Of course not. Jokes are for non-serious people. I, however, am very serious. See, I wear a necktie.”

Virgil snorted as they both walked out of the lunchroom. He was fairly certain he spotted the hint of an amused smirk on Logan’s face, too.

After their next class, he discovered a note stuck in his locker. A crude map of the school was drawn with a red arrow looping around it. It was signed with a smiley face, and a big red R.

 

####  **SCENE: Rooftop Garden**

Virgil climbed the stairs to the roof, only to find a huge trellis covered in green life. Shelves and pots of cacti and succulents surrounded him. Roman was waiting on a bench, grinning.

“ _Dang_ , basketboy. It’s like walking into the wilderness up here.”

“Not as wild as that cafeteria, right?”

“Oh god,” Virgil said, covering his face. “Don’t remind me. Not even a full week at a new school and I’ve already humiliated myself into the next century.”

“Nooo, don’t worry about it. They’ll forget with the next public breakup. It’ll be fine.”

Virgil sighed, trying to relax. “So what is this place? Your secret hideout?”

“Yeah, basically,” Roman said with a grin, admiring the view. “Thanks to a couple key members of the science club, the team has no idea it exists.”

Virgil felt a weight in his stomach again. “You really have the school wired, don’t you? Seems like everyone wants to be your friend, or do you favors, or be with- be around you.”

Luckily, it seemed Roman hadn’t noticed his slip of the tongue, caught his own contemplation. “Oh yeah, I’m everyone’s Prince Charming. Right up until we lose.”

“Is it hard, being the coach’s son?”

“He makes me practice harder, which isn’t always a bad thing. I just don't know what he's gonna say when he finds out about the singing.”

Virgil grimaced. “You worried?”

“It’s just…” Roman started, then stopped and sighed.

“We don’t have to talk about it-” Virgil began, but Roman shook his head.

“No, I want to talk about it. I never really can, not with the team. The thing is, my parents’ friends are always saying ‘Your son is The Basketball Guy. You must be so… _proud_.’” His lips twisted in a wry smile. “I am proud of the team and how well we work together. They’re my best friends, and they trust me to lead them. But sometimes, I don’t want to be ‘the basketball guy,’ I just want to be a guy, you know?”

Virgil nodded, then realized Roman was staring off into the distance and couldn’t see him. “I do know. But I saw you talking with Joan the other day, the way you treated them. Do your friends even know that version of you?”

“To the team, I’m the captain, and the playmaker,” Roman responded quietly. “That’s what they need me to be.”

“Then they don’t really know you, do they?” Virgil asked. “I mean it when I say I get it. At every school before this one, I’ve been the weird gloomy science boy. At least, until some asshole outed me and I became the weird gloomy _bisexual_ science boy. I’ve actually had a fresh start here - I’ve been just me, whoever that is.”

“Still a little gloomy, or at least emo,” Roman said, pointing to Virgil’s purple hair with a lopsided grin.

“Guilty as charged, princey-boy,” Virgil retorted. “The weirdest thing is that yesterday, in auditions… while singing with you, I just felt like a boy.”

“You even look like one, too,” Roman said, faking shock. Virgil stuck his tongue out at him.

They both sat, surrounded by plants and silence, staring over the desert landscape that surrounded the school. Virgil finally broke the comfortable silence.

“You know, it’s funny, being surrounded by plants, I can’t help thinking about being a little kid again. When I was in kindergarten, I actually got married to my friends.”

“Friends, plural?”

“Oh yeah. A girl and boy, at the same time. The ceremony was under the willow tree and we all had flower crowns. It was very moving. I mean, the flower crowns were actually just handles of clovers we’d pulled out of the grass and dropped on each other’s hair, but still.”

Roman laughed. “Well now I feel lame. The most exciting thing that happened to me in kindergarten was Remy moving across town. He finally moved next door and I got to see him _every_ day instead of just _most_ days. Little did I know I could have been in marital bliss all these years.”

“Unfortunately, that was right before my mom’s ex left, and we moved for the first time. I’ve been in so many schools over the years since then. But you know the one thing I really miss? The first couple of moves, I’d meet a new kid, and they’d know nothing about me, but ten seconds later we’d be playing like we’d been friends for life. Once you get older, everyone’s more cut off, and not as willing to talk to the new kid. That’s how I became this anxious emo mess,” he said, with a gesture to all of himself. “But New Year’s, and yesterday… singing with you feels like being in kindergarten again. It’s just easy.”

Roman looked over. Virgil was smiling, his face more open and lit up than he’d ever seen him. His golden-brown cheeks were practically glowing.

“I never thought about it before you - singing, I mean,” Roman found his eyes slipping down and getting caught on the boy’s full lips and pulled his glance away, hoping his blush would go unnoticed. “But um. I’ve also liked it. The singing.”

Virgil looked over. “Roman, do you want to actually do this? The callbacks?”

Roman thought a moment, then met the other boy’s eyes. A grin spread across his face. “Just call me the weird callback boy, My Chemically-Inclined Romance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi apparently this is a very productive week for me
> 
> Alternative Name for this story: Get'cha Head in the (Gay)me


	6. Lunkheads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman's foray into theater draws more attention that he intended, and Remy is not about to just let this go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: negative self-talk, description of a panic attack

####  **SCENE: Gymnasium**

Squeaks, dribbles, and whistles echoed through the gym. The basketball team faced each other in two lines, passing back and forth in a zipper pattern. The ball flew between players, hitting their hands in a _thwap THWAP_ pattern. Coach Bolton strode up and down the line with a sharp eye to his team, offering encouragement as he went.

“Let's go, guys! Make it sharp! To the chest, come on!”

_Thwap THWAP thwap THWAP_

“Pop it! Come on, guys, focus! Focus!”

The ball traveled up and down the line, and Coach did too. Finally, he stepped in front of Patton to catch the ball.

“You seen Roman today?”

“Uh, no, Coach,” Patton admitted.

The coach frowned, and blew his whistle even louder than usual. “Again!”

If he could have brought himself to leave the gym, he might have heard snatches of a tune being composed, or voices raised in song, practicing. He might have seen a pair of students in the scene shop, helping to paint backdrops and sew costumes while sharing smiles. He might have noticed they both tapped their feet to an inaudible rhythm, humming softly in perfect harmony.

Instead, he saw only his son racing into the gym just as the rest of the team finally finished practicing for the day.

Remy scowled and flung a ball at Roman’s chest as he entered, out of breath.

“Hit the showers, boys. Good hustle today, let’s see that in the game,” Coach called, pointedly looking away from his only child.

As the other players disappeared into the locker room, Roman spoke without looking at his father. “I, uh... think I'm gonna stay a while. Work on some free throws.”

“Well, since you missed practice, I think your team deserves a little effort from you today,” Coach responded, already leaving.

Roman took a deep breath and aimed. He jumped from the three-point line, arms extending in a perfect angle to bounce the ball neatly into the net. Up, catch the rebound, dribble back to the line, and aim again. This time, it landed with a soft swish, no backboard needed.

“So here’s the _real_ stage,” Virgil commented, walking in.

The shame of failing his team melted off Roman’s shoulders as he caught sight of Virgil’s wry grin. “Yeah, you could call it that. Or just a smelly gym,” he grinned back, tossing the ball to Virgil.

Virgil stepped to the line, narrowed his eyes in focus, and tossed the ball, sinking it for a three-point shot.

“What is this? Are you secretly good at basketball too? Stealing my thing, no big deal.”

“I actually once scored 41 points in a league championship game,” Virgil said with a modest shrug.

“What? No way!” Roman exclaimed, impressed.

“Yeah, same day I invented the space shuttle and got My Chemical Romance to reunite.”

“Oh, you’re funny now, I get it,” Roman said, with a mocking grin. He stole the ball back and sank another perfect basket.

“I’ve been rehearsing with Joan, by the way,” Virgil said. “I think it’s going well.”

“Me too. And by the way, I missed basketball practice for that today. So if I get kicked off the team it should be on your conscience.”

“What?” Virgil looked alarmed. “I wasn't the one who told you to sing…”

“I’m kidding, Panic! at the Everywhere,” Roman said, grinning.

“That’s it!” Virgil said with mock fury. He stole the basketball and kept it away from the taller man, laughing.

“Hey! That’s traveling!” Roman protested, trying to reclaim it. “That’s _really bad_ traveling!” None of his normal techniques worked on such a short opponent.

“Only if you catch me!” Virgil smirked.

“Oh, a challenge, is it?” Roman grabbed Virgil around the waist, lifting him and the basketball bodily off the floor and spinning until the ball bounced out of his hand.

“Excuse me, this is a closed practice!” a voice shouted from the locker room entrance.

Coach Bolton walked in, scowling. Roman immediately placed Virgil back on the floor as the smaller man appeared to shrink in on himself.

“Dad, come on, practice is over,” Roman said.

“Not until the last player leaves the gym. Team rule,” he responded curtly.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Virgil said softly.

“Coach, uh, Dad, this is Virgil Montez.”

“Ah, your detention buddy,” his dad responded rudely, not shaking the hand Virgil had tentatively extended.

Virgil looked down, his bangs falling to cover his face. “I’ll see you later, Ro. Um, good to meet you, Coach Bolton.” He left the gym quickly, not looking back.

“Dad, that was rude. Detention was my fault, not his.”

“You haven't missed practice in three years. That _boy_ shows up…”

“‘That boy’ is named Virgil, and he’s a really… cool guy.” Roman hoped his blush wasn’t visible, but he could feel it warming his cheeks.

“Well, helping you miss practice doesn't make him very cool, not in my book. Or your team's.”

“He’s not a problem, dad! He’s just a guy!”

“But _you’re_ not just a guy, Roman! You're the team captain,” Coach interrupted. Roman flinched. It always came back to this, didn’t it. “What you do affects not only this team, but the entire school. And without you completely focused, we're not gonna win next week. These championship games - they don't come along all the time. They're something special.”

Roman could feel a lump of frustration in his throat. “A lot of things are special.”

“But you're a playmaker... not a singer, right?”

Roman finally made eye contact, feel his heart drop in his chest. Of course his dad had heard about it. Of course he wasn’t going to be happy about it. But that didn't mean Roman was going to blindly accept his dismissal. “Did you ever think maybe, just _maybe,_ I could be both?”

His father was silent. Roman tossed the ball away, not caring where it landed, as he stomped away to the outside entrance of the gym.

At the locker room door, the eavesdropping team members exchanged looks. Patton’s face was a mask of worry, but Remy’s was one of pure exasperation.

 

####  **SCENE: Library**

It wasn’t until the next day that Remy was able to corner Roman. Roman was attempting to complete actual classwork, searching for books among the stacks. Remy, as per usual, had only his basketball and an attitude.

“For real, babes, what spell has this elevated-IQ incubus cast that suddenly makes you wanna be in a musical?”

“Rem, stop talking about him that way. I just did it, okay? Who cares?”

“Who cares? How about your most loyal best friend?”

“Quiet in here, Mr. Danforth!” the librarian hissed, rounding the corner from the fiction section.

Remy held up his hands. “It’s all him, Ms. Falstaff,” he said innocently, pointing at Roman. “I’ll keep him in line.”

She gave him a look, then returned to shelving.

Remy tried a new tactic. “Look, Ro, have you ever seen Colm Wilkinson on a cereal box?”

“Rem, who the hell is Colm Wilkinson?”

“Yeah, exactly,” he responded with an exaggerated sigh. “He was Jean Valjean in _Les Miserables_ in London, on Broadway, _and_ in the anniversary concert. Why do I know this? Because Mum has seen that musical 27 times and she put a picture of him in our refrigerator.” Roman stared at his friend, who nodded knowingly. “Hun, I know. Not on it. _In_ it.”

“Why?”

“Bitch, I don’t know, I think it’s part of a some weird diet idea, I try not to think about it in depth.”

Ms. Falstaff glared over the circulation desk, and Remy pointed an accusing finger at Roman once more.

“But Ro, here’s my point,” he continued as she turned away. “Keep playing basketball, you end up on the cereal box. Keep singing, you end up in my mom’s fridge.”

Roman snapped his book closed, turning to face his friend. “Remy, I don’t understand. Why can’t I have more than one thing? You and Patton both do basketball _and_ the GSA and that works fine.”

“Because the whole team needs _you_. How can you expect the rest of us to be focused on a game if you're off somewhere singing ‘Twinkle Town’?” Remy slid down his glasses for a moment with a smirk. “But for real, babes, the minute you’re _finally_ ready to come out to the GSA, we’ll make it work.”

“What?” Roman sputtered.

“What?” Remy said innocently. “Anygay, I just need you to know this, Ro: the team relies on you. As the playmaker and as our captain. Without you, we don’t stand a _chance_ against West High.”

Roman sighed and looked away as the librarian hissed at them again, “Boys! Keep it _down!_ ”

“I’ve been trying to tell him, Ms. Falstaff,” Remy insisted, looking at his friend meaningfully. “I really, really tried.” Roman refused to make eye contact as Remy grabbed his ball and left him alone in the library.

 

####  **SCENE: Science Lab**

Logan was in the middle of organizing materials for a decathlon team meeting when he heard footsteps approaching. He looked up to see Remy Danforth and Patton Baylor strolling into the science lab, heading straight for him.

“Hey, nerd-” Remy started, but Patton elbowed him. With a roll of his eyes, Remy amended himself. “ _McKessie._ We need to talk.”

“I fail to see any topic on which we would converse, Danforth,” Logan responded, adjusting his glasses.

“It’s about Roman, and Virgil,” Patton supplied helpfully. “Remy is worried about Ro, even if he shows it in odd ways.”

Logan was happy to turn to the taller man and address him, rather than the sarcastic man staring at him from over those infernal sunglasses. He was inside a building, and it wasn’t particularly bright - why did he insist on wearing them all the time?

Yes, it was the sunglasses and Remy’s irritating drawl that led Logan to speak to Patton instead, not the way the man’s curls seemed to glow even under the science lab’s fluorescent lights.

“In what way are you worried about him, and how would I possibly play any role in any plan to help?”

“Well, I think this idea of auditioning for a musical is great if that’s what he wants, but I also know basketball is one of Roman’s biggest passions. And his dream has always been to have a great high school career so that he can keep playing forever,” Patton explained. “Remy is… less enthused about the prospect of him singing, but we can both see that he’s getting really distracted, and losing focus, and it’s affecting the whole family.”

“Apologies, Patton, but I fail to see how the Bolton household is relevant to me?”

Remy rolled his eyes and explained, “It’s the team. The basketball team. Pat calls us family.”

“Ah. So your sports team is struggling. I am sorry to hear that, but that still does not explain how I figure into this discussion.”

“It’s like this, Specs,” Remy said, leaning on the lab bench. “Ro is distracted because his obliviously gay ass can’t get enough of your new genius boy Virgil. And I bet your Nerd Olympics would go much better if Virgil could be convinced to focus on that instead.”

“It is called the decathlon,” Logan said stiffly.

“So the decathlon team would probably do much better if Virgil was on it, right?” Patton asked, trying to apologize for his teammate’s rudeness with a smile directed right at Logan.

Logan was suddenly acutely grateful for his insistence on always keeping a neat appearance. Thanks to his polo and tie, he knew he was dressed more formally than most students, but at this moment he was intensely grateful for taking his barber’s advice to get his hair cut with a modest side fade and small, neat twists on top. It needed very little maintenance to look orderly, and he was sure he would have been frantically running his fingers through it if he hadn’t been assured it wasn’t a mess. Had Patton always had so many freckles? Or had they suddenly become more distracting? Logan realized that the man he was contemplating was still waiting on his response and coughed lightly.

“Ah, yes. We would indeed benefit from Mr. Montez’s extensive knowledge in the realm of chemistry. However, he has been reluctant to join the team as of yet, despite a steadily-growing level of familiarity with myself and other team members.”

“That’s cause ya boi cares much less about chemistry than about Ro’s anatomy,” Remy snarked.

“Rem, don’t be mean,” Patton admonished.

“Hey, I’m just calling it as I see it, hun. I’m _way_ too ace for their shit.”

“Anyway-”

“Any _gay_ ”

“-we think our plan will also convince Virgil to focus more on his strengths, as well. But um, Rem. You’re sure it’s not too mean, right?” Patton asked, fiddling with his glasses anxiously as he spoke.

“Pat, we’re not going to be feeding Ro any lines or anything. Anything he says will be his own words, no one else’s. There’s no shame in honesty, right?”

Patton seemed to waver, but nodded.

“You have sparked my interest,” Logan said, able to look at both basketball players more easily now. “Brief me on the plan, and I will see if I can in fact be of assistance.”

 

Dee strode down the hallway, brainstorming new makeup looks when he and Cee passed the open lab door. He stopped suddenly, seeing basketball players mingling further with students outside their circle.

“Cee, do you see that? Something’s not right here.”

“Do you think they’re working together to help Roman and Virgil beat us out for the parts? Why would they do that?” Cee asked with a tilt of his head. The twins were precisely color-coordinated today, with Dee in blush pink and Cee in blue.

“Think about it - the jocks are already the most popular group in school. If they branch into drama club, that’s practically the entire student body. And if the science club gets their resident prodigy paired up with Roman Bolton, they go from drool to cool.” Dee shivered at the image. “Ugh, Cee, we can’t just sit back. We need to save our show from people who don’t know the difference between a cue-to-cue and a barbecue.”

 

“I admit, I am impressed with the thought you have put into this, Remy,” Logan said. “Do you think it will work?”

“I do. Gotta save my main man from his own stupidity somehow.”

“Here is what you will need, then,” he said, pulling out a laptop and compact webcam.

Remy lifted his glasses to check his watch. “I’m at 11:35 Mountain Standard Time, we synced?”

“Given that we both have internet-connected phones, I would assume yes.”

“12:05, lunch period. Operation Save The Gayme is a go.”

“There is no reason for such theatrics. We are not some covert mission.”

“Maybe _you’re_ not,” Remy smirked, pointing at his t-shirt. It read ‘I Come With My Own Background Music.’ “Me, I’m Charlie’s Angel, babes. Just sit back and enjoy the show.”

“Thank you again, Logan,” Patton said, pulling Remy out of the lab. “We owe you one!” He waved as they left.

Logan couldn’t help waving back. This plan had to be a good idea if such a friendly man approved, right?

 

####  **SCENE: Locker Room**

Roman wandered the halls, searching for his team. It was lunchtime - where were they? Was there another unplanned practice he was missing? He checked the locker rooms, just in case.

He expected to find at least one teammate. He hadn’t expected to find the entire varsity team staged around a table. It was covered in trophies, basketballs, and varsity letters from years past.

Remy stood in front of the crowd, holding a framed portrait of a young man in a vintage basketball uniform.

“‘Spider’ Bill Netrine, class of '72,” Remy recited. “He was the MVP in the league championship game.”

Patton continued on, with another picture in his hands.. “Sam Nedler, class of '02. Also known as "Sammy Slamma Jamma." Captain and MVP of the league championship team.”

Another team member lifted yet another photo. “The ‘Thunder Clap’ Hap Hadden, '95. Led the Wildcats to back-to-back city championships. A _legend_.”

“Yes, legends, one and all,” Remy said, waving at the memorabilia. “But do you think that any of these Wildcat legends became legends by getting involved in musical auditions just days before the league championships?”

The team chorused, “Get your head in the game!”

Roman’s stomach dropped. Was it not enough that his dad kept pushing him to practice in every waking minute? Was it not enough to keep hearing Remy harp on this alone? But now, it was the whole team. And they were all here, united. Against him.

Remy punctuated his words with urgent gestures. “These Wildcat legends _became_ legends because they never took their eye off the prize.”

Again, the chorus of the whole team:  “Get your head in the game!”

Remy turned to the group. “Now, who was the first sophomore _ever_ to make starting varsity?

“Roman!”

“So, who voted him our team captain this year?” he asked with a smile, turning back to Ro.

"Us!”

“And who is gonna get their sorry asses kicked in Friday's championship game if Roman’s worried about an audition?” He asked, face serious as he locked eyes with his oldest friend.

The team wasn’t quite in sync as the dejected response came, “We are.”

“Rem, guys, come on. I mean, there's 12 people on this team, not just me,” Roman protested. The guilt was starting to gnaw at him. Was he being selfish, for wanting to explore this other side of himself when so many people were counting on him?

“Just 12? Oh, no. I think you're forgetting about one very important 13th member of our squad,” Remy said. An underclassman handed Remy a picture from behind one of the largest trophies, who turned it for Roman to see.

A lump formed in his throat. “It’s my dad.”

“Yes, Ro. Wildcat basketball champion Jack Bolton, class of 1981. Champion, father, and now coach. It's a winning tradition like no other.”

Roman felt yet another twist of the knife in his conscience. There was so much riding on this game, so many people counting on him, and the team was convinced he was giving up on them.

He couldn’t let that happen.

 

####  **SCENE: Science Lab**

Virgil had thought it was odd that Logan asked him to come work on homework in the lab during lunch, but not too out of the ordinary. But when he entered to see a laptop set up with a presentation queued and the whole decathlon team waiting, his nerves started to spike.

“Um, Lo, what is this?”

“Virgil, I would like to share some very important information with you. Please, sit.”

Virgil sat, not sure what to expect. Logan picked up a pointer and hit play on the computer.

“From lowly Neanderthal and Cro-Magnon, to early warriors, to medieval knights. All leading up to…” he gestured to another teammate, who unrolled a poster - a small recreation of the enormous Wildcat Pride mural, complete with Roman’s smiling face. “...lunkhead basketball boy.”

Virgil scoffed, but Logan continued to speak.

“Yes, our culture worshipped the aggressor throughout the ages and we end up with spoiled, overpaid, bonehead athletes who contribute little to civilization other than slam dunks and touchdowns.That is the inevitable world of Roman Bolton.”

The presentation started to play uplifting music as Logan continued. “But the path of the mind, the path _we_ are on, ours is the path that has brought us these people: Rosalind Franklin, Pierre and Marie Curie, Jane Goodall, George Washington Carver and so many others who the world reveres.”

“Um, cool, Lo, but what is this? You know, I've got Joan waiting for me to rehearse, I need to get going…” Virgil said, rising.

“Virgil, please,” Logan said sharply.

The shorter man sat back down, thoroughly confused.

“Roman Bolton represents one side of evolution. And our side, the side of education and accomplishment is the future of civilization! This is the side where you belong, Virgil. That is where you can do so much good, for you, for science, and for the world.”

“Lo, buddy, I’ve always intended to stay in the sciences, I don’t know why you’re so concerned. Roman and I, we’re just… friends. Singing partners. It’s no big deal.”

“Virgil, trust me. You need to watch this,” Logan said, clicking the screen. It cut to a feed of the locker room. Virgil was shocked to see Roman, distressed and frustrated.

“Guys, if you don't know that I'll give 110% on the court, then you don't know me!” he insisted. He wasn’t facing the camera nor did he seem aware of its presence.

“But we just thought…” a disembodied voice said.

“I'll tell you what I thought. I thought that you're my friends. Win together, lose together, teammates.” He looked close to tears. Virgil stared in confusion. How was this being filmed? Why was Roman so upset?

“But suddenly, this singing, and this singing partner...” another voice asked Roman, off-camera.

“Man, I'm for the team! I've always been for the team. He's just... someone I met,” Roman said. Virgil felt his breath catch in his throat. _Didn’t I tell you? Don’t get your hopes up._ But Roman wasn’t done yet.

“This singing thing is nothing. Probably just a way to keep my nerves down, I don't know. It means nothing to me. You're my guys and this is our team. Virgil is not important. I'll forget about him, I'll forget the audition and we'll go out and get that championship. Okay?”

He couldn’t breathe. How had his fears, the nagging voices in the back of his head, suddenly started speaking with Roman’s voice? With Roman’s face? _Your friends are annoyed by you. You’re a burden, getting in their space. You’re taking them away from things they would rather be doing._ **_You’re not important._ **

“Behold. Lunkhead basketball boy,” Logan said quietly, gesturing to the screen as the video feed ended. Virgil could barely hear him over the storm of hurt in his mind. He was frozen, waiting for the world to come crashing down around him, for all the other disaster scenarios to come true.

Logan, apparently, did not recognize the external symptoms of an anxiety attack. “So, if you have the time, we would greatly appreciate having you on the decathlon team, Virgil.” He paused, noting the lack of response. “Or perhaps you would just like to get some lunch?”

The last phrase managed to permeate Virgil’s whirling thoughts and he shook his head stiffly.

Logan frowned, but left the lab all the same with the other science club members.

Virgil wasn’t sure how long he sat, drowning in fear. His breath came in shallow gasps as his body prepared him to flee the thousands of terrible things that surely were coming for him now. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to block them out, but the inside of his eyelids only presented him with a film roll of disasters. Roman tosses him aside, Logan realizes he’s not that smart, the science club pushes him out, teachers see right through him, he fails out of high school, can’t get a job, his mom gets disgusted and kicks him out, he ends up homeless and on the street, he starves to death alone and abandoned in a dark alley.

His knuckles turned white with the effort of gripping the lab bench, clinging to something physical. He knew he was spiraling, and struggled to pull himself out. _What can I see?_ Black stone of the lab bench top. Empty beakers and flasks. A whiteboard at the front of the room. American flag in the corner. _What can I feel?_ Cold table top warming where my hand it touching it. The rungs of the stool where my feet are resting on it. The fabric of my hoodie against my wrists. _What can I hear?_ Chatter of students in the other room. Sneakers and shoes on the tiles of the hallway. Music in the courtyard.

Music?

He pulled himself up to standing, and walked to the window. The cheerleading squad was spilling out into the courtyard, singing the Wildcat fight song. And there was the basketball team behind them, jamming along, hollering and cheering.

And there was Roman, in the center of it all, fully caught up with his team.

A tear coursed down Virgil’s cheek. It had been all real, then. Roman really had abandoned him, sticking with his team and the one thing he knew best. He leapt onto the lip of the fountain with his teammates, seemingly without a care in the world.

But really, what was Virgil even losing? Just a chance to audition for a musical that he didn’t really want to be in alone, anyway. Everyone knew Roman was straight, that much of the school gossip VIrgil had heard. He’d had clearly been fooling himself this whole time, thinking that duets and smiles were somehow proof of anything other than friendship.

That didn’t make it any less painful to accept. This past week with Roman had been like something out of a fairytale. What was it he’d called himself, up on the roof? The school’s Prince Charming? Except he hadn’t been the school’s. He’d been Virgil’s, this fantastical dream come true. A beautiful man, tall, ginger, freckled, and with a smile that shone like a shooting star about to grant Virgil’s every wish.

Clearly, he was the last one to realize how dumb he’d been. Thank god Logan had shown him Roman’s true sentiments. Otherwise, Virgil might have gone on fooling himself, believing in his own feelings so hard that he convinced himself it was the truth.

He knew better now. This was real life, not a fairytale. Roman was no prince, just a boy who Virgil had foolishly believed he’d had a chance with. He’d been humoring him, sung the other half of the duet that Virgil so desperately had wanted to be a reflection of reality. Now the words had changed. Virgil held no importance to Roman, he’d said it himself. The basketball star would forget about the weird, gloomy nerd and focus on his upcoming game. Virgil would make sure he didn’t interfere again. Now that he knew, he could at least avoid being even more of an unwanted burden than before.

 

####  **SCENE: Hallway**

Virgil was at his locker, getting books for his next class, when Roman found him.

“Hey there, Dark & Stormy,” he said with a smile, leaning on the side of the locker. There was a lot of him to lean. “Listen, there's something I wanna talk to you about.”

Virgil took a deep breath. Time to get this over with. At the very least, he could make sure Roman knew he didn’t blame him, and that he knew that he was free of any future obligation to his one-time duet partner.  

“I need to talk to you about the same thing, so here it is. I know what it's like to carry a load with your friends- I get it. You've got your boys. So we're, you know, good.”

Roman’s smile weakened as he listened in confusion. “Good about what? I was gonna talk to you about the callbacks…”

“I don't wanna do them either,” Virgil interrupted. “I do get it, Roman. Singing - it’s not my thing, and it’s not yours. So what’s the use in kidding ourselves?  You've got your team and now I've got mine. I'll do the scholastic decathlon and you'll win the championships. It's where we belong.” Virgil handed him his copy of the song they’d been rehearsing. “Go Wildcats, yeah?”

“But I…” Roman started, brow furrowed.

“Me neither,” Virgil said with a half-hearted smile. He closed his locker and walked away, refusing to look back. If he looked back, he might lose his resolve. And the only thing that could hurt worse than walking away would be having to do it more than once.


	7. If We're Tryin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the fallout of their plan, Remy, Patton, and Logan aren't sure they made the right call.

####  **SCENE: East High**

Roman stood frozen in the middle of the hallway, a terrible weight dragging in his stomach as he watched Virgil walk away, disappearing into the crowd of students. Virgil didn’t want to do callbacks. He’d given up. But why?

The team finally seemed to have stopped being disappointed in him, but if Virgil was mad at him now, what was the point? Roman was so excited when he was with the shorter man. Like he was on the verge of some amazing discovery that he couldn’t quite name yet. And the more he sang, the more comfortable and fun it became. He didn’t want to lose that, not when he’d finally started to see himself as someone who could both sing and play basketball.

But if Virgil didn’t want to keep going, how could Roman continue?

He made his way to outdoor practice with the team, numb. Remy was running a scrimmage and grinned as he caught sight of Roman.

“Hey captain! Get your ginger ass in here!”

Roman stared blankly at the energetic team, dodging and weaving and shooting. It was too much. He waved Remy off and made his way to the track, jogging laps instead. Maybe the steady rhythm of running would help his jumbled thoughts and unsettled heart to align.

“Rem, is he okay?” Patton asked, watching the figure slowly jog further away.

“Don’t worry about it, Pat, he just needs to blow off some energy. I bet the pressure of the game is just getting to him.”

Pat frowned. “I hope you’re right.”

But even when he finished his laps, Roman didn’t rejoin the group, but went inside instead. Rem followed him in, only to see the star of the team failing, over and over. He was missing the basket even on easy shots. What was going on? Ro could make a layup in his sleep, but now he was struggling? As Rem watched, trying not to draw attention to himself, Roman managed to trip over his own shoelaces and fell to the gym floor.

He rolled over onto his back, muttering swears, before flinging the ball away and stomping off to the locker room.

Remy winced. They hadn’t messed up with their plan, right? It was just supposed to help Roman get back to focused. It was intended to help. So it couldn’t be a bad thing.

Right?

* * *

 

Two days later, Pat and Remy were in the cafeteria, waiting for Roman to join them from the lunch line. Just as he turning to join them, he practically walked into another student. He looked down, into deep brown eyes under purple hair.

Virgil.

He froze for a moment, then took a breath to start babbling apologies. But Virgil was already turning away. He neglected the table where Logan and the decathlon team sat, choosing instead to sit at a quiet table of mismatched chatter in the corner.

Roman stared after him until Remy called his attention. He looked up and gave a weak smile, then walked past their table to leave the lunchroom.

Patton chewed his lip, worried. “Rem, I really don’t think he’s okay.”

“Of course he is. Or will be. Maybe.” Remy sighed. “Fuck. No, you’re right. Even if he was a little bit unfocused before, it’s just worse now. The plan didn’t work, and we fucked up.”

“Language! But we do need to fix it, Rem. He’s our friend, and it’s our fault.”

“How do we even do that, Patton? It’s not like we can just hit undo.”

“This started through a miscommunication, right? So we’ll need to communicate really well to set it right. And we won’t do it alone.”

“We won’t?”

Patton shook his head, then stood and walked across the room.

Logan didn’t notice someone approaching until the students besides him were looking above his head and looking star-struck. He turned, to see Patton smiling at him from many feet above him. In a less sunny person, it might have been called looming.

“Pa- Mr. Baylor. Salutations. Was there something you needed from me?”

“Yes, Mr. McKessie, there is,” he responded, grinning a bit as he mimicked Logan’s manner of speech. “We need to talk, you see. About yesterday.”

“I see. Will you all excuse me?” He nodded to his team, then stood and followed Patton out of the lunchroom. Patton stopped by the basketball table to drag Remy along with them.

“Pat, babes, you could just _ask_ if I can come with,” he complained.

“No I can’t, Rem, you’re too good at avoiding conflict.”

“Not my fault my reflexes are better than yours.”

“I find that very surprising,” Logan said, rolling his eyes, “because Remy causes my gag reflex to activate daily.”

Remy turned to face Logan with a terrible grin. “Oh hun, that can be _arranged_.”

Logan blessed his dark skin for making his blush that much less visible.

“Hey, no making fun of the allos, Rem, you already know you’re too much for us,” Patton admonished, utterly failing to keep his giggles from bursting of from behind the hand that strove to hide them.

Logan coughed and turned entirely away from Remy.

“What was it you wanted to discuss, _Patton?_ ”

Patton immediately sobered. “It’s Roman. He’s miserable. Has Virgil been down as well?”

Logan adjusted his glasses. “I am not particularly skilled at gauging others’ emotions, but Virgil has been rather avoidant over the last day. And even quieter than usual. It is very possible that he, too, is unhappy.”

Patton nodded. “I think the plan was a mistake. And since it was our mistake, we need to fix it.”

Remy ran a hand through his hair, his sober face a sharp contrast to his ‘Laughing On the Inside’ t-shirt.. “Not saying you’re wrong, Pat, but I really don’t know how we do that.”

“We caused this situation by removing the context of Roman’s outburst, did we not?” Logan said, thinking aloud. “So perhaps if we were to restore the context, and explain our collective part in generating his uncharacteristic response…?”

Patton nodded eagerly. “That’s what I was thinking too, Lo.”

_Lo? Did he just give me a nickname?_

“Will they believe us?” Remy asked

“They’ve got to,” Patton said fiercely. “We can’t be the ones who ruined true love!”

“True love?” Remy and Logan chorused, then glared at each other for voicing the same thought.

“Well, yeah! You two didn’t think the moping was just about the _singing,_ did you?”

 

####  **SCENE: Rooftop Garden**

Roman was sitting alone on the roof, trying to absorb the sound of the wind, when the quiet was interrupted by a set of footsteps. He looked up to see Patton and Remy coming up the stairs. _Well, there goes the secret hideout,_ he thought. _Just another thing I’ve lost recently._

Rem seemed to hesitate, but was prodded on by Patton.

“Hey, Ro. Um. We just had another team meeting.”

Roman looked down. He’d missed it. Again. “Great.”

“We had a team meeting about how we haven't been acting like a team. I mean us, not you.” Remy took off his sunglasses and sat next to Roman. “Look, babes, about the singing thing…”

“It’s not happening anymore, Rem, I really don’t want to talk about it,” Roman said, refusing to face him.

“Ro, I just… I want you to know that we’re gonna be there, okay? In the audience, cheering for you.”

Roman looked up, startled. “What?”

“If singing is something you want to do, kiddo, we should be boosting you up, not tearing you down!” Patton added, smiling.

“Win or lose, we're teammates. That's what we're about,” Remy said, tentatively putting a hand on Roman’s shoulder. Then he grinned. “Even if it turns out you sing like a drowning cat.”

“Rem, I am _sure_ he’s great! We just don’t know, because we’ve never actually heard you?” Patton interjected, turning expectantly to Roman.

Roman’s mood fell again. “Yeah, well, you’re never going to. Because Virgil won’t talk to me. And I… I don’t know why.”

Remy looked nervously at Patton, then back to Roman. “Um. We do.”

“Excuse me?”

“Here,” Patton said, handing him a packet from the lunchbox he carried. “I baked these fresh today. Thumbprint cookies, with this jam I just discovered in the health foods store. I think you should try one now, before we explain. After we do, you might need a _second_ cookie.”

 

####  **SCENE: Science Lab**

Virgil was busy working through a particularly complicated reaction formula when Logan approached him.

“Virgil, can I talk to you for a moment?”

The shorter boy paused a moment, then shrugged a nod. He pushed his book aside and turned to face Logan.

Logan took a deep breath. “Virgil, I was, for lack of a better term, an asshole. But worse than that, I was an inconsiderate asshole. I mistakenly believed your interest in the musical auditions was killing our chances of having you on the scholastic decathlon team, and-”

“Logan, I don’t care about the goddamn auditions. I heard what Roman had to say. I'm on your team now. Done.” Virgil said curtly, turning back to his textbook.

“No, not done,” Logan said, stepping a bit closer. He didn’t want to invade the others’ personal space, but he needed to be heard out. “We _planned_ it, Virgil. Remy knew he could get Roman to say things to make you want to forget about the callbacks. We orchestrated the whole thing. I am embarrassed that I was such a willing participant, and I am truly sorry for the adverse impact it has had.”

“No one _forced_ Roman to say anything, Logan. It’s fine. We should be focusing on the decathlon anyway. It’s only a week away.”

“It is _not_ fine!” Logan protested. “Doing well in the decathlon would be pleasant, but it is nothing compared to the regard you hold for your friends, myself included… or the regard you hold for Roman. That matters, too. And I regret that it took me so long to realize that.”

Virgil stared at him for a moment, then turned back to the board and continued writing chemical formulas, dark eyes focused on the task.

Logan nearly reached out to stop him, but let his hand drop. He allowed himself to send one last pleading look Virgil’s way, but it went unnoticed. With a sigh, he went to find Patton, to let him know that at least he had _tried._

 

####  **SCENE: The Montez Home**

That evening, Virgil helped his mother continue to set up their house and unpack. They were very efficient packers after all these years, and tiered everything by importance. All the most essential supplies and clothes had been unpacked for weeks, and there were only decorations and knick-knacks left. His room finally felt settled now that his _Nightmare Before Christmas_ posters were in a place of honor on one wall, and the cover art of treasured albums decorated another.

Humming _Sing_ to himself, he carried his empty box downstairs, heading for the basement.

He was halfway down the stairs when he heard a knock on the door, and his mother opened it.

“Hello, are you Ms. Montez?” a familiar voice asked. His eyes widened as he saw his mom nod.

“Good evening - my name is Roman Bolton. Is Virgil home?”

Lisa slightly closed the door and leaned around the corner to make eye contact. Virgil shook his head, throat tight. She nodded in understanding, and flashed a brief “I love you” at him in ASL.

Turning back to the door, she responded to the tall ginger boy who was nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot on their doorstep, fiddling with a sheaf of paper in his hands as he did so. “Unfortunately, Virgil is rather busy with homework and such, so now's not really a good time.”

Roman gulped audibly. “I understand. It’s just that, I made a mistake, Ms. Montez. He doesn’t need to listen to my apology, but I really want him to know how badly I feel for making that mistake. Would you be willing to tell him I came to see him?”

Lisa softened a little. “I think I can do that, Roman. Have a good night.”

“ _Buenas noches_ , Ms. Montez.”

Roman turned and walked back down the entry path as the door shut behind him. He stopped and gazed at the house, wishing that he could somehow earn Virgil’s trust back. Listening to the quiet night sounds, he admired the balcony and graceful trees in the backyard of the Montez home. Wait. Balcony! That was it!

He took out his phone and dialed Virgil’s number. If he didn’t pick up, Roman would leave, and wouldn’t force himself into his presence. But if any part of him still was willing to talk…

After 4 rings, Roman was ready to turn away. But just at the last second, Virgil picked up.

“Hi.”

“Virge, I know you heard my idiotic rant, and I am so sorry. None of it was true - I’ve enjoyed singing so much, and particularly singing with you. It’s not nothing, it means so much to me. I just - I was so sick of my friends giving me constant shit for it, so I said things I knew would shut them up. I didn't mean any of it, please believe me.”

Virgil sat back on his bed, leaning back as he fought to keep the emotion and leaping hope out of his voice. “You sounded pretty convincing to me, princey.”

“I know the anger sounded real, because it was. I was frustrated and hurt and guilty, and I let my mouth run away with me, saying literally anything I thought would make them get off my back. But… Vee, the Roman you met on vacation, at the ski lodge… that guy was much more me than the dumbass you heard the other day.”

Virgil sighed. “Even if that’s true, the whole singing thing is making the school lose its collective shit. You said so yourself- everyone is treating you differently because of it.”

“Maybe because I don't wanna only be the basketball guy and they can't handle it,” Roman’s voice was rough - was he breathing heavily? “ That's not my problem, it's theirs.”

“What about your dad?” Virgil asked. He clamped down on the fluttery emotions in his stomach. _Don’t get your hopes up don’t get your hopes up don’t get your hopes up._

“None of this is about my dad. This is about how I feel. I'm not letting the team down. They let _me_ down. So I'm gonna sing. Will you be there next to me?”

Virgil rolled over on his bed, facing the wall. “I don’t know, Ro.”

“I need you to say yes, Virge. Because I brought you something.”

“What do you mean?” Virgil asked, sitting up.

“Turn around.”

Virgil turned slowly to face the window. There was Roman, smiling tentatively, standing on Virgil’s bedroom balcony. A leaf stuck in his hair called out the big tree behind him as his accomplice in getting up this high. Virgil slowly walked to the window-door and opened it.

 _“This could be the start of something new,”_ Roman sang softly, a capella. _“It feels so right to be here with you.”_

Virgil could feel a blush spreading over his cheeks. How could he not, when Roman was smiling at him with so much liking in his eyes, and singing their first shared song with as much feeling as he could muster?

 _“And now, looking in your eyes,”_ Roman continued to sing, bringing a hand up to cup Virgil’s face. _“I feel in my heart the start of something new.”_

Virgil was sure Roman could feel the heat of his cheeks where his fingers touched them, but the taller man didn’t try to rub it in. He just smiled earnestly, blue eyes meeting hazel, as he asked, “It’s a pairs audition, Virge. Are you with me?” He held up the paper in his free hand. It was Virgil’s sheet music.

Virgil smiled. “Yeah, princey. I’m with you.” He edged a bit closer, and took the music. Roman’s face was _so_ close to his, but it was no longer physically possible for him to blush harder. Something in the taller man’s eyes changed, almost like a look of recognition or realization. Virgil leaned in, rising on his tiptoes as Roman slowly leaned down.

A car alarm went off on the street below, startling them both into leaping back. Roman’s face was even redder than Virgil’s, clashing terribly with his orange hair.

“I should, uh-” he stammered.

“Yeah, it’s late, and-”

“Thank you for, uh-”

“Yeah, you too,” Virgil said, and swallowed. “Um. Good night, Roman.”

There was that smile again, all freckles and pale skin and unabashed delight. “Good night, Virgil.”

He swung himself over the balcony railing, back into the tree, and grinned at Virgil from through the branches. “Sweet dreams!”

Virgil closed the balcony door again and collapsed onto the bed, still blushing. “Oh, I’m having sweet dreams alright,” he mumbled to himself. “And I’m not even asleep yet.”

 

**SCENE: Music Room & Auditorium**

Roman tore through the gym, dodging, spinning, and sinking baskets left and right. Not even Patton could guard him - he was here one second, gone straight to the hoop the next. The whole team felt the shift in energy - this was the focus they’d been striving for. They were one cohesive unit, sensing rather than seeing where their teammates were, passing with ease. Coach Bolton had nothing but praise: only days away from the game, but they were exactly where they needed to be. He could feel it in his gut - they were gonna win this thing. He wasn’t clear on the exact details of what had changed his son’s mood, but whatever it was, it was clearly working.

Still riding the energy of a successful practice, Roman flew through his post-workout shower. Teammates laughed and pointed at the clock as he shot finger-guns at the mirror. He grinned at them, and took off down the halls of East High.

In the science lab, the scholastic decathlon team was just as on point. Virgil had connected with the underclassmen in particular, and was walking them through a practical experiment. “See, guys, come look,” he instructed. “You’ve measured out five grams, right? Okay, now add that to the beaker.”

The younger student did as he instructed as the group gathered to take notes.

“See how it foams up? It’s been changed into an acidic state. And now our solution changes from pink to blue - just like the pH test strips.”

“It all makes sense now! Thanks, Virge,” a student said with a smile. Turning to give her a pat on the back, Virgil caught sight of the clock.

“Shit, gotta go! See y’all tomorrow, okay?” He quickly made his way to the door, removing his protective goggles and apron as he went.

He ran through the halls and nearly ran slap-bang into Roman as he rounded a corner.

“You’re late,” Roman said teasingly as they both ran towards the music room. Virgil grinned and grabbed Roman’s hand, pulling him along as they hurried to meet Joan for rehearsal.

* * *

 

Dee was strolling through the halls as if he owned them, as per usual. He hummed to himself, the callback song he and Cee were to perform in just three days. Even if this whole ‘callback’ thing was an irritating formality, it was nice to be able to...

He suddenly heard something that sounded like voices accompanied by piano coming from one of the music rooms. He stopped short, reaching out and grabbing his twin’s arm without looking. They leaned as one to listen more carefully.

Two people were singing, and they sounded beautiful together.

“Wow, they sound _good_ ,” Cee said, not just a little concerned. Dee frowned, and crept to the door. Maybe it was some ensemble members?

Dee’s eyes widened as he saw that it was in fact Roman and Virgil singing, accompanied by Joan on the piano. “Cee, we have to do something!”

Cee furrowed his brow. “What if they’re just… better than us?”

Dee scowled. “They might be good singers, but they’re not _actors_. Now shush and let me think.” He took out his phone and scrolled through the calendar. “Hmm, ok. Our callbacks are on Thursday and the basketball game and the scholastic decathlon are on Friday…” He looked up, smirking. “Too bad all these events weren't happening on the same day... at the same time.”

Cee tilted a head, confused. “But that wouldn’t work, because Roman and Virgil just wouldn’t be able to come to the…” Dee nodded as realization dawned over Cee’s face. He smiled seeing what he intended. “I’m so proud to be your twin.”

“Don’t I know it,” Dee responded with a smile, and walked on with a new spring in his step.

* * *

That afternoon, Joan was in the auditorium instead of math class. They’d been struck by inspiration and also imaginary numbers were ridiculous, so composing was far and away the best use of their time right now. Humming very softly to themself, they revised and edited the sheet music on the piano as they relaxed in a corner of the backstage area. Suddenly, they heard voices walking in, and ducked to fully hide behind the piano.

“I don't want to hear about Roman Bolton or that Montez boy,” Ms. Darbus said, walking in. “In fact, I can’t hear anything about them.” She turned to face Cee & Dee, who had walked in with her. “But if you're telling me as co-presidents of the drama club that changing the callbacks would be what's best for our theater program, then I might be inclined to agree with you.” She checked around the area, confirming they were alone. “I will trust your judgments, Mr. and Mr. Evans.” She nodded decisively, and left.

“That was a yes, right?” Cee asked. Dee winked hugely, and walked off in the opposite direction from the director, singing under his breath. _“Bop bop bop, bop to the top, wipe away your inhibitions!”_

Cee still looked a bit confused, but followed his brother.

In their hiding place, Joan sighed in frustration. Would nothing with their show go smoothly?

They practically sprinted to the announcements board the next morning. But even though they’d expected it, they still felt the cold of disappointment steadily dripping down their back.

They were still standing and staring when the basketball and science teams came by.

“Callback Auditions reschedule to Friday starting at 3:30 pm,” the sign proclaimed.

“Callbacks at the same time as the game?” Roman said.

Virgil’s mouth twisted. “And during the scholastic decathlon.”

“Why would they do that?” Patton asked unhappily.

“I hear hissing, and the snake’s named Darbus,” Remy growled, glaring accusingly at the poster over his sunglasses.

“It’s actually two snakes, and neither’s named Darbus,” Joan piped up.

Remy turned, and looked down. “Do you know something about this, small person?”

“Ms. Darbus thinks she’s protecting the show,” Joan told the group, “but Cee & Dee- well, mostly Dee - he only cares about protecting himself.”

“That’s it, bitches need to die,” Remy said, already about to storm off.

“Rem, no, no murder,” Roman interrupted. “We’re not going to do anything to them. Except maybe sing. I have the beginnings of a truly brilliant plan, if I do say so myself, but it’s only going to work if we can work together. Who’s in?”

Roman put out a hand that was immediately covered by Virgil’s and Joan’s in quick succession. Remy was next, and two underclassmen from the each team. Logan had gotten stuck on the outside of the group, but Patton put a hand up to high five him, then used his other arm to connect them both to the huddle. Logan smiled and felt the faint tinglings of a blush when Patton didn’t let go of his hand, instead clasping his hand more firmly.

“What team?” Virgil called with an ironic smile.

“Wildcats!” they cheered as a group.

Roman’s freckled face curved with his enormous grin. “Let’s do this, y’all! Game on!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, I'm so close to the end. Hope y'all are having fun with this, because _I know I am_


	8. Going for the Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's the day: Game Day, Decathlon Day, Callbacks Day. ~~help~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song references, because they're just too good not to:  
> [Bop to the Top](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wSgjEUciN0M)  
> [Breaking Free](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zuwugw89Lcg)

####  **SCENE: East High - Game Day, Scholastic Decathlon Day, Callbacks Day**

Friday afternoon arrived like a swarm of honey bees. The whole school was buzzing in excitement with a large helping of sweetness. The cliques continued to mingle as ‘good lucks’ were exchanged between drama geeks, science nerds, jocks, and pep band geeks alike. As the basketball team found the scholastic decathlon team, the sweetness became slightly more literal.

Roman led the way into the lab where the decathletes were prepping, with teammates shielding their gift.

“Virge, Logan, we have a surprise for you!” he called happily. The two science students turned from where they were donning their East High lab coats.

Patton emerged from where he’d been ducking behind the team to place his creation on the lab bench, glowing with pride. He’d made a lemon meringue pie decorated with a huge “𝚷” in the meringue. “In your honor - a Pi Pie!” he announced, grinning hugely.

Logan looked up to thank him but suddenly went quiet, smiling just as widely. Virgil noticed and smirked, then nudged his friend in the ribs. Coming back to himself, Logan said “Thank you, Patton. In fact, we have a present for you as well.”

He and Virgil walked over to a white board and both gestured with open arms, chorusing, “Ta da!”

Remy, Patton, and Roman all stared at the board, heads tilted. It was covered in incomprehensible (to them) equations that seemed to be somehow explaining how to make the perfect free throw, accounting for drag, vertical draft, air pressure within and without the ball, and speed of the player shooting.

“Oh, it’s… equations!” Patton said with forced cheer. “Thanks, you two!”

Logan and Virgil made eye contact and snickered. Snickers turned into laughs as they flipped the board over, revealing a colorful drawing of a wildcat dunking a basketball and “Go Wildcats!” in huge letters. The basketball players all sighed in relief with “Oh!”s of understanding, as Logan, Virgil, and their decathlon teammates pelted them with stuffed basketballs they’d hidden around the lab. The team tried to retaliate, but they were outmatched and laughing too hard to care.

Remy suddenly caught sight of the clock and nudged Roman. They waved goodbye to the decathletes and jogged as a team down to Ms. Darbus’ classroom, where Dee & Cee were chatting with other students who had callbacks for the singles roles that day.

Remy strolled in and leaned over a desk to wink at Dee. “Hey, Not-So-Evil Twins, we’ve got something to show you. Follow me!”

The twins were slightly off put by the nickname but mostly intrigued. The rest of the auditioners and Ms. Darbus crowded behind them in the door of the classroom to watch. The entire varsity squad of the basketball team were arranged in rows in their red-and-white warm up suits. Remy re-joined the formation, telling Dee, “From our team, to yours!”

One by one they opened their jackets to reveal t-shirts painted in huge letters. “G - O - D - R - A - M - A - C - L - U - B” they spelled out, Roman bringing up the rear with “Exclamation Point!”

Ms. Darbus smiled. “Seems we Wildcats are in for an interesting afternoon.”

Dee smirked, enjoying the offering. Beside him, Cee stared in confusion. “Godra? Godray?” he read aloud. Dee rolled his eyes and pulled his twin behind him, heading towards the auditorium. The basketball team split off towards the gym, and the decathletes made their way to the amphitheater. It was 2:45 pm, less than an hour until the multiple events started.

Logan nudged Virgil with a small grin. “It looks like _the game is afoot.”_

“I never thought I’d be able to say this without seeming like a huge hypocrite, but you are a _enormous_ nerd,” Virgil smirked back. “But also, yes it is. And we’re as ready as we’ll ever be.”

 

####  **SCENE: Locker Room**

Roman was in the locker room suiting up, stretching out his pre-game jitters. He couldn’t wait to get out there with his team, but the amount riding on this game was nothing to sneeze at. He was in the middle of an arm stretch when his dad knocked on the wall, getting his attention.

“How you feeling, Ro?”

“Nervous,” the captain admitted.

“Me too. Wish I could suit up and play alongside you,” the coach said with a smile.

“Hey, you had your turn! Let the young guys show you how it’s done,” Roman shot back with a chuckle.

“You know what I want from you today?” Coach Bolton asked, sitting on a bench across from his son.

“The championship,” Roman said, feeling another butterfly burst out into his gut.

“Well, that'll come or it won't,” his father said. “What I want is for you to _have fun._ I know all about the pressure. And probably too much of it has come from me.” His face twisted a bit, betraying his guilt. But he made eye contact with the teen across from him as he continued. “What I really want is to see my son having the time of his life playing the game we both love. You give me that, and I will sleep with a smile on my face no matter how the score comes out.”

Roman could feel the butterflies melting away. His dad got it. He knew he’d been harsh, but ultimately, he just wanted his son to be successful and happy.

“Thanks, Coach - I mean, Dad.”

He stood up and hugged his dad firmly. Father and son both squeezed for a moment, then parted to finish getting ready for the game’s imminent start.

 

####  **SCENE: All Over East High**

Quiet chatter bounced around the amphitheater where the decathlon was soon to start. Virgil stood in the audience, chatting with his mom as she cooed over his lab coat.

“I’m so proud of you, _mijo_. I know you’re gonna do great today!”

" _Mamá_ , you are not allowed to be embarrassing in any way.”

“When am I ever embarrassing?”

Virgil rolled his eyes as he held up a hand to list off his grievances. “The competition in Colorado, junior high graduation, the nationals in 2015, the science fair in seventh grade…”

Lisa laughed and hugged her son around the shoulders. “Okay, okay, I’ll be good. Can I at least meet your friends on the team?”

But Virgil was saved by the decathlon judge stepping up to the front of the room and gesturing for the teams to come meet one another. Virgil hugged his mom back quickly and hurried up to stand by Logan as they shook their opponents’ hands.

“Welcome to the tenth annual Scholastic Decathlon,” the judge announced. “Today we have the East High Wildcats versus the West High Knights.”

 

“Now presenting your Wildcats!” the announcer blared. Roman, Remy, Patton, and the rest of their team spilled into the gym in a wave of red and white, cheering and waving to the crowd. They grabbed basketballs and circled, warming up, dribbling, and shooting in turn.

“Welcome to the championship game between East High and West High!”

Remy dribbled past Roman, throwing him a grin. “You ready, man?”

“You know I am!”

“It’s go time!”

 

“It’s time!” sang Ms. Darbus, leading in the small crowd of actors to the auditorium. Joan sat at the piano, warming up and practicing. In the green room, Dee and Cee were performing their vocal warm ups, trills and scales and enunciation exercises.

“Ahhhh-ee-ee-ah-ee-ee-ahhhhhh,” Cee sang, traversing the entire octave up and down. Dee rolled sounds in his throat.

The sounds rolled around the dressing room before Dee held up a hand. Without looking, he fell backwards into Cee’s arms. Standing, he turned to his twin.

“I trust you.”

“Energy,” Cee replied seriously.

Ms. Darbus checked the watch of the student assisting at her audition table. Standing, she took the stage.

“Casting a show is both a challenge and a responsibility. A joy and a burden,” she proclaimed, her voice booming through the mostly-empty auditorium. “I commend you and all other young artists to hold out for the moon, the sun, and the stars.” Her assistant took a picture of her and Joan as director and playwright. She smiled and asked, “Shall we soar together?”

Taking her seat in the audience, she called out “Diego and Cedric!”

As the music started, Cee appeared onstage first. His shirt was flowy and glittery, not quite a full Flamenco shirt, but definitely pushing in that direction. Silver threads interlaced with blue and sequins made him a bit difficult to look at directly as the stage lights caught him. Hitting his first pose, he sang out “ _¿Quieres bailar?_ ”

Dee appeared on the opposite side of the stage in his own spotlight as he blew a kiss to the audience and sang in response to his twin “ _¡Mirame!”_ If Cee was sparkling, Dee was blinding. He was in full character as the musical’s heroine, Minnie. His dress hugged his slender chest and cascaded in tiers of waves in the skirt, all blue and silver and far too many sequins. Even his headset microphone matched, bedazzled in glittery blue rhinestones. He swirled to center stage in a flash of blue and dove into the first verse of the song, with Ms. Darbus grooving along from her spot in the audience.

The twins had a mix of choreography, switching from salsa to flamenco to rumba and sprinkling in more classic musical theater moves in between. In terms of pure talent, they’d never been in doubt.

 _“Yeah, we're gonna bop, bop, bop, bop to the top!”_ they sang in tandem, singing through plastered-on stage smiles as they made their way through complex steps and spins. Joan nervously checked the clock as they continued. Time was of the essence today, and the twins had once again adapted Joan’s song to be _much_ faster than they’d pictured.

 

In the amphitheater, Virgil’s event had been drawn first, and he raced against a West High student to complete a full chain of reactions. He was a comfortable level of jittery as he wrote across his white board quickly. He reached the bottom as his opponent was completing only her fifth line, and quickly made his way to the game clock and stopped his timer.

The judge came forward and checked his work, before gesturing to the team table and announcing, “The point goes to East High!”

The team cheered and their supporters cheered with them, Lisa Montez the loudest of them all. Virgil rolled his eyes but smiled at her and gave a small wave. Logan clapped him on the shoulder, saying, “Excellently done, Virgil!”

Virgil glanced at the clock and nudged his friend. As the next event started, Logan brought out his laptop. “It seems it’s time that the Wildcats made an orderly exit from the gym, does it not?” he murmured as he worked. He sent off the code he’d created, then opened his other file. “You are quite sure this one will work to disrupt the room, Virge?” he asked quietly, typing away.

“Oh believe me, it _works_ _,"_ Virgil whispered back, eyeing the Bunsen burner near the judge stand with trepidation.

“All right. Here goes,” Logan said, sending off the new code. The beaker on the burner started to heat up, causing the sac inside to burst. The room filled with the scent of rotten eggs as team members and audience members alike gagged and rushed to the exits.

“I assume it is working?” Logan whispered as he hurried Virgil to a side door closer to the auditorium.

“Uh, yeah, Lo, it smells _terrible,_ ” Virgil exclaimed.

“I would not know - I have anosmia. Why else did you think I agreed to this childish distraction?”

Virgil swore at him over his shoulder as he sprinted away, heading for the theater.

 

Joan was hiding behind their bowler hat as Dee & Cee’s routine neared its end. It’s not that the twins were bad, it was all just so _extra_. Every additional flourish, every break to throw in more unscripted Spanish just made the composer cringe more and more. They’d even worn a burgundy suit jacket and bow tie for the occasion, but now it was only serving as camouflage as they shrunk into the red audience seats.

 _“Bop, bop, bop, bop to the top, wipe away your inhibitions!”_ the twins sang, Dee always managing to be just a bit downstage and more center of his twin. His skirt flared as they neared the conclusion of their song. The lights raised on the back of the stage, revealing a ladder covered in gold tinsel. As Cee spun in front, Dee scaled the ladder into the spotlight.

“We'll keep stepping up and we just won't stop ‘till we reach the top!” the twins hit the final note together as Cee scaled the ladder, only to be pushed down a rung by his brother.

They held the final note, both breathing heavily from the exertion of the performance as the audience of drama students erupted into applause, Ms. Darbus enthusiastically clapping along.

“Do you see why we love the theater, people? Well done, Dee & Cee!” she cried happily. She picked up her clipboard and called out the next names on her list. “Roman Bolton and Virgil Montez. Roman? Virgil?” The auditorium was silent as Dee smirked triumphantly.

“They'll be here, Ms. Darbus,” Joan said, looking anxiously at their watch.

“The theater, as I have often pointed out, waits for no one. I'm sorry, Joan. Callbacks are over. Cast lists will be posted on Monday.”

Joan cursed under their breath and stormed off into the wings, scowling at the self-satisfied twins.

 

The first quarter was coming to a close and East and West High were still tied at only 8 points each. The team was moving well, their defense strong. There had been a slip early on, but they were holding West High still. Roman raced the length of the court, directing teammates and weaving between opponents. He watched the ball fly over his head into Patton’s arms when the scoreboard flickered. The voice of the announcer who’d been offering blow-by-blow commentary fizzled and faded. Suddenly, every light in the gym went off. Murmurs of confusion rolled around the crowd as the players stopped and stared at each other awkwardly. Remy nudged Roman with a grin.

“What are you waiting for, babes? Go!”

Roman smiled and ran out of the gym, dodging through the crowd and hurrying out.

He tore into the auditorium as Ms. Darbus picked up her purse and made to leave.

“Wait! Ms. Darbus, wait! We're ready, we can sing!” he cried, seeing Virgil running down another aisle.

“I called your names, twice,” Ms. Darbus said sharply.

“Ms. Darbus, please,” Virgil begged, running up the stairs to the stage.

“Rules are rules,” the director insisted. But as she spoke, crowds of students started filing into the auditorium from both the basketball game and the decathlon. Most wore East High red and white, but the West High teams were present too, all looking confused.

Dee leaned over, staring starry-eyed at the huge audience, and said, “We'll be happy to do it again for our fellow students, Ms. Darbus!”

“I don't know what's going on here,” the teacher began, uncertain, “but in any event, it's far too late _and_ we have not got a pianist.”

“Aw well, that’s show biz,” Cee said sympathetically.

“We’ll sing without a piano!” Roman insisted, but was interrupted by a blur of burgundy and black.

“No you goddamn won’t!” Joan stepped in front of the Evans twins to speak directly to the director. “Pianist here, Ms. Darbus.”

“You _really_ don’t want to do that,” Dee said dangerously, stepping into Joan’s space.

They stared back steadily as they replied, “Oh yeah I fucking do.” Dee’s eyes widened in shock as the composer ran to their piano, calling “Ready on stage!” behind them.

Ms. Darbus eyed the interaction. “Now _that’s_ show biz,” she said with admiration.

A stage hand gave Roman two handheld microphones as the twins stormed off into the wings.

He walked over and handed Virgil one where he was still standing in the middle of the stage, staring at the huge number of people that was only continuing to grow as the last of the crowds filtered in. The stage lights came back on, illuminating his white lab coat and Roman’s white tracksuit as the basketball player signaled to Joan to start.

The familiar strains of the song began, but Virgil remained frozen, eyes wide as he stared straight ahead.

Roman gestured for Joan to pause and walked over to the shorter man, partially shielding from the crowd as he murmured, “You okay?”  

“I can’t do it, Ro, not with all those people staring at me.” He started to turn away as Roman caught his free hand.

“Hey, hey, look at me, look at me, right at me. Right at me, okay? No one else is here. It's just like the first time we sang together. Like kindergarten,” he said with a reassuring smile. “I’m here. You can do this, I know you can.”

Without releasing his hand, Roman gestured to Joan to start again.

 _“We're soaring, flying. There's not a star in heaven that we can't reach,”_ he sang, staring directly into Virgil’s eyes.

Without breaking eye contact, Virgil lifted his mic and continued, _“If we're trying, so we're breaking free.”_

Roman spotted the tiniest hint of a smile. Virgil would be okay. He spun out to the audience. They needed to hear this too, see them up onstage and telling them what could be possible.

 _“You know the world can see us in a way that different than who we are.”_ He saw movement at the door and realized the last person from the gym had entered. It was his dad, leaning on the wall and listening hard.

Virgil let his hand drop, stepping away, _“Creating space between us, 'til we're separate hearts.”_

Joan grinned from their spot at the piano as the two built up to the chorus, signaling the rest of the band in the wings to join in.

Virgil suddenly realized that Roman was right. It was just like New Year’s Eve all over again, all familiar jitters and excitement and this beautiful man singing to him like no one else could hear. Roman’s red hair glowed in the stage lights, a sun rising in the dark of the auditorium. Dimly he was aware that the crowd was starting to clap along, but what did that matter when a freckled smile was harmonizing and dancing around him?

They hadn’t practiced any choreography, but danced together and apart, spinning around their lone set piece, a crescent moon they’d painted together. They danced over to Joan’s piano as the composer danced with them, still playing and bopping their head along to the beat.

 _“More than you, more than me,”_ Roman sang, spinning Virgil out onto the stage.

 _“Not a want, but a need,”_ he sang back, grinning like mad as Roman followed him.

 _"Both of us, breaking free!”_ they chorused, hands finding each other and interlocking like an old habit, newly formed. The basketball team whooped and cheered, Remy leading the crowd in a standing ovation. Logan found he couldn’t be self-conscious, watching his friend glow with happiness, and stood too, earning himself a huge grin from Patton, just a row behind him.

Virgil briefly caught sight of his mom in the crowd, her hands covering her face as he swayed to the music. Was she crying? Her hands moved to clap along, revealing tears and a huge smile as she cheered loud and long for her son.

Joan and their piano led the song to its conclusion, slowing down to the final note as Roman and Virgil sang to each other.

_“You know the world can see us in a way that’s different than who we are…”_

They hit the final notes in harmony. Roman was staring unashamedly into Virgil’s dark eyes, at his flushed cheeks, at the way the stage lights caught the purple highlights in his hair. Grabbing the shorter man’s hand, he felt the same urge as that moment on New Year’s, when the distance between himself and Virgil seemed to shrink and all he wanted was to breach that final, infinitesimal separation between their lips. He leaned in, and despite the loud applause of the crowd, they didn’t break away.

Virgil was positive that this was death. He’d freaked out so hard about singing that he’d died and gone into a weird afterlife dream where the most beautiful man serenaded him and then kissed him in front of the entire school. Because it was only in heaven and his daydreams that this could actually be happening, right? His lips were so soft, and it felt like sunshine spilling into his soul as he kissed back, holding his waist with the hand not occupied by a mic.

The only thing that could cut through the dull roar of the crowd’s applause was a familiar, drawling voice shouting “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, _FINALLY!”_

They broke apart, blushes spreading on both of their cheeks.

“Ro, I have no idea how we get off this stage now,” Virgil whispered.

“Don’t worry, Panic! at the Musical,” Roman said, still blushing. “I think I know how.”

He stepped forward, closer to the stage, and spoke into the mic. “Thank you! To my teammates, to the drama club, to the science nerds, skaters, band geeks, and also both my parents, my name is Roman Bolton, and I am apparently gay. And I can’t ask my fabulous duet partner, Virgil Montez, to be my boyfriend with you all watching. To our West High guests, can’t wait to see y’all in the rematch, and to my East High friends, go Wildcats!” With that, he grabbed Vigil’s hand and dragged them both offstage, laughing like mad and still blushing furiously.

 

####  **SCENE: Gymnasium**

Roman was more than a little certain that he had yet to touch the ground since callbacks, floating on the countless wonderful emotions and memories that were the reality of dating Virgil. Somehow he had been able to drag himself away from walking down the street and the hallways introducing him to anyone and everyone who would listen as “my BOYFRIEND!” But at least there was the perk that he was constantly walking on air.

Or, in the case of the East-West rematch, flying down the court.

“...and West High pushin' the ball. Fast break. Looking for an open man. Oh, but it's stolen by number 14, Bolton, heading back the other way!” The commentator channeled the crowd’s energy as she called the action on the court. “East High has possession, one point down and only 15 seconds left on the clock! He’s looking for an open man. Fake! Swing to the outside, ball on the perimeter.”

Roman panted as he tossed the ball to Remy, getting closer to the net. He was acutely aware of how close they were to winning this thing, if they could just get an opening… there it was!

A high toss from Remy that only Patton could possibly reach, then a quick throw to Roman. He leapt, legs, core, and arms all in perfect harmony to get _just_ the right angle and…

“And it's good! A 12-foot jump shot as time expires for the victory! East High has won the championship!”

Roman felt a _thwump_ as Patton collided with him in a huge hug, followed shortly by the _thwumpthwumpthwump_ of the rest of the team following suit. They all jumped up and down as one, cheering and celebrating without abandon. The cheerleaders and mascot were the first to get from the sidelines to the court to celebrate with them. But soon after, Coach Bolton, close to tears with happiness, came over to the team huddle of bodies to hand them the enormous championship trophy.

“Coming through! Proud coach coming through!” he yelled, and handed off the gleaming brass basketball on its heavy wooden base to Remy and Roman. Gripping his son’s shoulder, he managed to be heard as he told him, “I’m so proud of you Roman. For everything!”

Remy was the first to start the chant as the team swept Roman off his feet, hoisting him on their shoulders. “What team?”

“Wildcats!”

“What team?”

“Wildcats!”

_“Wildcats!”_

“Get’cha head in the game!”

They finally released him as he passed the trophy on to the other teammates and grabbed his dad for a hug as the spectators flooded from the bleachers to the court. Even Ms. Darbus had caught the spirit, cheering “Bravo!” at Roman as she passed.

Coach Bolton was even happy enough to cheer back, “Brava!” at her. The assistant coach pulled Roman’s dad away as he paused for a moment, catching his breath for the first time since the game had begun. Arms suddenly wrapped around him as he turned to see Virgil, hair re-dyed a festive Wildcat red just for the occasion.

“Congratulations, you dork,” he said, grinning hugely. “You’re officially the school’s Prince Charming again.”

“I would never make you share this brilliance with the entire school,” Roman responded. “Did you get the scores back from the decathlon?”

“We won, too,” Virgil said, but was interrupted by Roman hugging him with both arms and swinging him around in the air.

“I bring the looks and the brawn, you bring the smarts and also the looks, we are clearly the best couple ever and I am so happy you’re my boyfriend.”

“Goddammit Ro, you’re gonna make me blush and then I’ll clash with my hair,” Virgil admonished as he wriggled out of Roman’s hold.

“Guess I’m forced to kiss the blush off your cheeks,” Roman proclaimed. Just as he leaned in, Remy pushed in between them with a basketball in his hands.

“Hey Ro! Team voted you the game ball! Congrats!” Remy said airily, barely pretending to not notice what he’d interrupted.

“Thanks, Rem. Really appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” his friend said with a bow, strolling off.

Virgil hugged Roman again, then suddenly hit his arm excitedly. Staring in the direction of his pointing arm, Roman saw Patton walking up to Logan and grinned.

“So, you’re coming with me to the after-party, right?” Patton asked, open face smiling.

Logan started. “Sorry, that was directed to me?”

“Of course, Lo! So will you?”

“I- uh. I was planning to attend because Virgil had asked me to…”

“Oh, sorry, I wasn’t being clear!” Patton realized. “Words are funny like that, aren’t they? I meant as a date!”

Logan stared for a moment, then two, then three without moving anything besides his eyes blinking.

Virgil nudged Roman and muttered in his ear, “Logan.exe has crashed.”

“Oh, also, these are for you! Fresh today!” Patton added, handing the shorter man a bag of cookies. “I heard you like jam thumbprints!”

Logan accepted the bag and managed to nod his agreement, to both the cookies and the date, as a huge smile spread across his face.

Virgil and Roman both punched the air in victory as Cee and Dee passed by, both in full East High spirit colors.

“Congrats again on your roles,” Dee said. “I guess we’re going to be the understudies in case you can't make one of the shows, so... break a leg.”

Roman stared in slight fear until Dee laughed and added, “It’s drama geek for ‘good luck’.”

Dee passed them and watched Cee dance off with a cheerleader, bopping to the music the pep band had struck up. He shouldered his way through pairs of students before coming up on Remy, leaning against the bleachers as he watched Roman and Virgil steal another kiss in the middle of the crowd.

Dee came up to lean next to him. “Can’t believe I crushed on Roman all these years only for him to actually be gay but still allo. I’m so disappointed.”

“That’s what everyone says when they what I’m ace. Like, I get it, I’m frustratingly hot and sassy as hell, why are you so obsessed with me?” Remy drawled back. He’d found his shades somewhere by the team bench and slipped them back on.

“You’re ace too?” Dee asked incredulously

“Of course I am. Hey, Dee, want to come to the afterparty and make fun of these gay disasters more?”

“Wait, really? You aren’t like ‘Dee’s a bitch and I hate him’?”

“Not at all, hun. You’re a bitch and I like it _so much.”_

“Well in that case, lead the way, Mr. Danforth.”

Somewhere in the crowd, Roman managed to find Joan. “Hey composer! Here’s your game ball. You deserve it, playmaker!”

Joan took the basketball, smiling. “Congrats again, you two!” they said with a wicked grin. “Can’t wait til rehearsals start and you’re at my mercy for eight weeks straight.”

Virgil laughed and pushed them. “Hey, this is all _your_ fault. You can’t be mean to us now!”

“Oh so you’re saying you’d rather that you _hadn’t_ met your boyfriend through the power of my beautiful song and lyrics?”

“Ya got me there,” Virgil shrugged. “But for real, thank you, Joan. We couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

Roman nodded emphatically. “And the rest of you, too,” he said, turning to his and Virgil’s teams. “All of this was a group effort. We made each other strong.”

“None of us are exactly alike,” Patton added. He and Logan were very subtly holding hands. “But the ways we’re different are all good and unique. And I’m grateful we arrived at where we are now.”

“Now let’s go celebrate!” Roman said.

“All of us?” a decathlon teammate asked.

“Absolutely!” Roman called. “This is a celebration for all of our victories. We’re all Wildcats, no matter what. And if there’s one thing this school has learned, it’s that _we’re all in this together.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me through this weird little adventure, especially the cheesy-as-hell ending. Gotta get to those DCOM roots and end in the hamfisted moral.  
> I love my collection of disaster gays of various heights. I hope you've enjoyed them too <3

**Author's Note:**

> Roses, don't you have a longform superhero au you're in the middle of?  
>  _...yes_  
>  Don't you have multiple WiPs you haven't returned to in months?  
>  _...yes_  
>  Then WHY are you starting another?  
>  _because i love to suffer and i miss mid-2000s Disney Channel, let me LIVE_


End file.
